Worst Fears
by laoisbabe
Summary: Tony and Gibbs are seriously wounded in the line of duty. Their family try to come to terms with the unimginable. Story of angst and second chances.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of NCIS, I'm just borrowing them for a while. _

**Chapter 1**

As director of NCIS, it was his difficult duty to make those dreaded calls to loved ones whenever one of his agents was wounded or killed in the field. This day was an exeptionally black day as Leon Vance had to face making two such calls. No matter how many he had previously made, they never got any easier. On his desk in front of him lay two files, both opened on the pages detailing next-of-kin. The files were those of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. With a heavy heart, he picked up the phone and dialled the first number.

Jackson Gibbs was working in his store in Stillwater, Pennsylvania, stocking shelves, when the shrill bell of his telephone startled him. He answered and when the caller identified himself as the director of NCIS, Jackson felt his knees weaken and he grabbed the counter top for support. He did his best to brace himself for what he knew was coming. This was the call that he had been dreading from the very first day his only son left home to join the Marine Corps. He could hear the catch in the director's voice and discerned that it was bad news. Director Vance explained as concisely as he could that his son, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, was in a critical condition at Bethesda Naval Hospital, having been shot and wounded in the line of duty earlier that morning.

The director informed the devastated father that Jethro and his team had been working a murder scene in a public park in Washington, when a Navy lieutenant pulled up in his car and pretty much went berserk. He started firing a semi-automatic weapon indiscriminately upon the agents and bystanders alike. Gibbs' team was taken completely by surprise. Reports from eyewitnesses said that Agent Gibbs acted valiantly when he realised what was happening. He drew his own weapon and charged courageously towards the gunman, firing as he did so. Thankfully, he managed to shoot and kill the gunman but not before receiving multiple gunshot wounds himself. His heroic actions saved the lives of his team the director explained.

In as sensitive, yet insistent, manner as he could, Vance advised Jackson Gibbs to get to Bethesda sooner rather than later, as his son's condition was listed as critical. He offered his support to Gibbs senior and recited the usual words of consolation that he had become accustomed to reciting, but today they felt even more empty and useless than usual. After all, they were just words. What good were words at a time like this, Vance found himself wondering.

Having ended that first call, Vance stood up from his desk, walked to his drinks tray and reached for the bottle of Jim Beam. He really had been shaken when he received the call from Ducky only an hour or so earlier. Making these calls was harrowing at the worst of times, but this time it was different. It felt more personal. He and Gibbs had got off to a rocky start in their professional relationship, but nowadays he would almost call Gibbs his friend. They had come to an understanding and it was based on mutual respect. Vance didn't have very many friends because of his position and he hoped he wasn't about to lose one today. And then there was DiNozzo. Everyone loved DiNozzo. Sure, he could drive you demented, but he brought a certain light wherever he went, not to mention he was a damn fine agent. What a waste! Vance threw back the bourbon, closed his eyes and savoured its malty warmth as it slid down his throat. Taking a deep breath he returned to his desk. It was time to make another call.

Anthony DiNozzo Senior was sitting in a hotel bar in Atlantic City, having a lunchtime drink with a suitably wealthy lady, when his cell phone rang. He didn't recognise the number, and for a moment considered not answering it. But for whatever reason, he decided to pick up. The caller introduced himself as Leon Vance, Director of NCIS. DiNozzo froze and the blood drained from his face suddenly, so much so that his female companion grew concerned. He listened carefully as the director explained what had happened. DiNozzo Senior heard the first few words and as shock set in, the director's voice faded. He had always expected that something like this would happen to Tony eventually, but it didn't make it any easier hearing the actual words.

From the day Anthony Junior had entered the Police Academy, his father expected to be taking a call like this some day. He hated and resented the fact that his only son had chosen law enforcement as his career. He had high hopes for his boy and spent his life acquiring wealth to ensure that he received a top-notch education and benefited from a high-flying life. His career choice was always a bone of contention between father and son. He now realised that as Tony matured and moved away, DiNozzo Senior had tried to put what he considered his son's failure to the back of his mind and sadly managed to put his relationship with his son there also. Without saying a word, he lowered the phone from his ear, emotionally numbed by the director's words. He just stared at the phone in his hands.

"What is it?" his lady friend enquired again and again.

"It's my son. He's been shot," he eventually told her. "He's in Bethesda Naval Hospital," he said, standing up. "I have to go," he said shakily, walking away without another word and leaving her to pick up the check.

He hurriedly checked out of his hotel and rushed to the train station. He had to wait only 40 minutes for the next train to Washington. He boarded the train and settled into a lonely journey to get to his son's bedside.

Meanwhile, Leon Vance sat back anxiously at his desk. He'd done his duty and informed the next of kin. Now what should he do? Another team of agents were processing the scene of the shooting. He wanted results and fast, but knew that nothing was going to change the fact that two of his agents were in mortal danger. He knew the seriousness of their injuries from the initial reports of the shootings. Sitting around in his office, waiting for news was torture. He felt absolutely useless. Both the injured agents were undergoing surgery. He should be at the hospital, he realised, knowing that was where the rest of Gibbs' team would be, so that's where he headed.

When he got there, most of Gibbs' team were waiting along a bare corridor, looking anxious and fearful. Abby was by far the most visibly shaken. She was sitting quietly, staring into space, which Vance found very disconcerting, as it was so out of character for the normally hyperactive Goth. Ziva was putting on her usual stoic façade, trying to hide her true emotions. Dr. Mallard and Jimmy Palmer both looked shaken and physically the worst for wear, their bloodstained clothes testament to their valiant efforts to save their colleagues. Strangely, there was no sign of McGee.

"Ah, Director," Ducky piped up, acknowledging his presence. "I'm afraid that there's no news as yet."

"That's okay, Ducky. I just thought I'd wait with you," he explained. "Where's Agent McGee?"

"Oh, Timothy was also wounded and is being treated in the ER. It's just a scratch. He'll be here soon," Ducky explained. "Did you manage to reach Gibbs' and Tony's fathers?"

"Yes," Vance replied. "They're both on their way."

"Good," Ducky replied, resisting the urge to say 'Let's hope they make it before it's too late'. Instead he just shook his head. It was enough to convey to Vance that it wasn't going to end well.

The director understood what he was intimating without him having to articulate it. He knew he was probably going to lose an agent today, possibly two. The scant conversation soon dried up. Everyone was too busy worrying and trying to deal with the situation in their own way. Hours passed and McGee rejoined them, his arm now in a sling. Eventually a surgeon emerged from the OR.

"Family of Tony DiNozzo?" he asked.

"Yes," several of them replied in unison.

"Okay," he said, looking curiously at the odd bunch of characters before him. "We've managed to remove the bullet from Mr. DiNozzo's chest. It was quite a tricky operation and he gave us a couple of scares in there, but luckily he's young and strong and he's come through it. His condition remains serious and he'll be admitted to the ICU for the next 48 hours at least," he told them.

"Does that mean he's going to be okay?" Abby asked innocently.

"Without complications, I would certainly hope so," the doctor replied.

"Thank you, Doctor," Ducky said, shaking the surgeon's hand. "Thank you. Is there any news on the other agent who came in with him?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't heard any update on Agent Gibbs yet," he replied, smiling sympathetically. "I'll send someone to come get you when Tony's been settled in."

"Thank you," Vance replied on behalf of the group.

And again they waited. A nurse came by a short time later and told them that one or two people could see Agent DiNozzo for a short while. Ziva went first. Her feelings for Tony, while well hidden, were undeniable. She managed to spend some precious time alone with him, willing him to be okay. All the while he lay there, oblivious to her heartache. When she left him, Abby sat with him for a while. The others maintained their vigil outside the OR. A couple more hours passed and the rest of the team took turns paying short visits to Tony, who remained unconscious all the while.

Eventually a grim-faced surgeon approached from the main door of the OR. Abby stood up when she saw him. She was overcome with a terrible sense of foreboding as he approached. Everyone saw what she saw in his face. No one said a word when he reached them. Ziva fingered the Star of David pendant that hung around her neck and prayed that Gibbs was going to be okay. They all held their breaths.

"Are you all here for Agent Gibbs?" the surgeon asked.

"Yes," one or two replied. The others just held their breaths.

"I'm afraid the news is not good," he said with resignation. "We've done everything we can. Agent Gibbs lost a massive volume of blood. We've transfused three litres so far. The wounds to his chest and abdomen were severe. To be honest, I'm amazed that he made it this far. We've managed to repair the damage and stop most of the bleeding, but he's very weak. He arrested twice during the surgery and we had a battle on our hands to get him back. It is likely that his heart will have suffered some damage as a result. I have to be honest and say that right now the prognosis is bleak," the surgeon explained to them.

"No!" Abby blurted out suddenly. She began to cry.

"I'm sorry. If he survives the night, then I might be a bit more optimistic," the doctor told them. "Let's just see how the next few hours go."

Abby's sobs echoed through the halls. No one else spoke. Ziva tried her best to comfort Abby, all the while struggling with her own sorrow. Vance sat back down, his head in his hands, cursing the price these agents had to pay for their country. Ducky had already been preparing himself for the news, having seen first hand his friend's injuries, but when it came, it didn't make it any easier. His friend was dying. His own heart was slowly breaking. Palmer knew what his mentor was feeling and wanted to do something to ease his pain. He could see the torment in the doctor's eyes but felt useless to do anything about it.

As this was unfolding, McGee, who had been down to the pharmacy for painkillers, emerged from the elevator down the hall. He could hear Abby sobbing and by the time he reached the group and saw their faces, he felt sick.

"Oh, God, who is it?" he asked desperately.

"Oh, McGee," Ducky said, turning when he heard the voice. "We've just received some bad news."

"Who's dead?" McGee asked sadly.

"What…no! They're both out of surgery," Ducky told him. "It's just that Gibbs isn't doing so well."

"Oh," he replied, relieved that they were both alive, yet scared for his boss.

There were no words to express his feelings upon hearing that. There were none of the usual reassurances that you would expect. No one saying, 'He's going to be fine'. The picture the doctor had painted was very clear. Gibbs' future looked bleak and it appeared Ducky was already accepting the inevitable. Maybe he should too. He walked over to Abby and Ziva and sat down beside them. Abby threw her arms around his neck and clung on tightly. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N - thanks to all those who took the time to review and alert. And, of course, thanks to my fab BETA, Diane, for all her hard work. **_

Chapter 2

Anthony DiNozzo Senior made it to Washington in a couple of hours. He was met at the train station by a car and driver, which had been sent by the NCIS director. From there he was taken straight to Bethesda Naval Hospital.

In the waiting area outside the ICU, he was greeted by the worried expressions of his son's colleagues. |They looked shell-shocked. He had met them for the first time only months previously and when he arrived, they greeted him with affection and support. He was surprised not to see the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs with them. He didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with the elder agent, especially when it came to his son. He knew that Tony had a close bond with the senior agent and that he respected Gibbs more than he did his own father. Then again, why wouldn't he? You have to earn respect and DiNozzo Senior had failed miserably. He realised that Gibbs was more than likely at his son's bedside. It annoyed him slightly at the thought of Gibbs taking on his paternal role, but he recognized that now wasn't the time for petty jealousies.

Senior received a warm hug from Ziva David, the beautiful, sultry agent he had made no secret of admiring on their first meeting. Ziva then linked Anthony Senior by the arm and led him into the ICU room where his son remained unconscious. Tony lay beneath a tangle of leads and tubes. He looked so ill. The sight shook him to his very core.

"I thought Agent Gibbs would be here," he said, surprised that his son's boss was not there as he had assumed.

With that, Ziva turned her head away and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle tears that seemed to come from nowhere. Despite her best efforts, her emotions poured out. DiNozzo Senior wasn't sure what he had said, but he had somehow managed to upset her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?" he asked as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry," Ziva said embarrassed by her vulnerability. "I didn't mean to get upset again."

"Don't be," DiNozzo said kindly. "Tell me what's wrong?"

Ziva turned around and, with eyes laden with hurt and sorrow, explained.

"Gibbs was also shot this morning. The doctors…..they don't expect him to survive the night," she said as huge tears traced down her face.

"Oh….., I don't know what to say," Senior said, stunned by the news. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

As they stood there in awkward silence, a doctor entered the room and introduced himself. Ziva thought it appropriate to leave, so excused herself and left the doctor talking to Tony's father.

"Your son is a very lucky man, Mr. DiNozzo. He was shot in the chest, but thanks to the quick actions of Dr. Mallard at the scene and the paramedics, he's alive. It was touch and go for a while, but the surgeons managed to repair the damage. It may be slow, but I expect him to make a full recovery," the doctor explained.

DiNozzo Senior was very relieved to hear this. He thanked him enthusiastically and once the doctor left, he approached his son's bed. He stood and looked down at him. He appeared comfortable, as though he was just sleeping. He gently tousled his son's hair, wishing he would wake up. Where had the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday his boy was just that – a boy. He had matured into a fine man, a man he could be proud of. Ever since he and Tony had reconnected this last year, he had come to realise how wrong he had been about his son. He had always resented his choice of career. Blue collar was not how he had been raised. He had expected much better from him, but Junior had walked away from the cushion of the family fortune to carve out his own way in life. Anthony Senior now realised what a brave and bold move it had been.

It had taken a few choice words from Gibbs the day they first met to open his eyes. His son was twice the man he had ever been, Gibbs was quick to point out. Now, as he looked at his son's tranquil features, he was relieved that he was going to be given a second chance to know his son. He realised that he could so easily have lost him today, but instead he had been gifted the opportunity to be there when his son really needed him. It might be a bit late, but he would be the father his son deserved.

He took a chair and pulled it close to his son's bedside. He thought of all the wasted years that he could never get back. Those regrets pained him. He decided to look to the future and committed to being there while his son recovered. Of course, that was all dependent on whether Junior would want him there. It's not as if he could blame Tony if he told him to sling his hook. Being there wasn't one of Senior's fortes, but he was desperate to put that right. He had come so close to losing his son today, it had really been a wake up call. It was time to put things right and he was determined to do just that.

A couple of hours passed when, much to DiNozzo Senior's delight, Tony began to wake from the anaesthesia. He was groggy and confused, unsure of where he was. His father spoke gently to him, trying to reassure him. Tony didn't even recognise him.

"Boss?" Tony said blearily, trying to keep his eyes open and failing miserably.

"No, son, it's me, your father," DiNozzo Senior told him as he leaned in close.

Tony licked his parched lips.

"Where's Gibbs?" Tony asked breathlessly.

Anthony Senior didn't know what to say. He didn't want to upset his son with such morbid news, so he decided to shield him from the truth until he was stronger.

"He had to go back to the office for a while. He said he'll be back in a bit," he told him convincingly.

Tony was too out of it to question his answer. It seemed like something Gibbs would do. Tony forced his eyes open and looked at this dad.

"Am I dying?" Tony asked cryptically.

"You're going to be fine," his dad told him.

"Really? I just thought…if you're here…..must be serious," Tony mumbled.

"Not at all; I was in the neighbourhood," his dad said with a wink.

Tony smiled weakly. Knowing his dad was there was strangely comforting. He closed his eyes and drifted back to the pain-free relief of slumber. His dad took his hand and stayed with him, determined he wasn't going to fail his son this time.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jackson Gibbs dropped everything and locked up his store immediately after receiving Director Vance's phone call. He asked a neighbour to drive him to the local airport where he made a standby flight to Washington. It was the longest, most anxious journey of his life. He spent the short flight praying to a God that he had long since abandoned, begging that his son's life be spared. When he landed, there was a car waiting to take him straight to Bethesda, which Director Vance had kindly arranged.

It was evening by the time he arrived at the hospital. He was greeted by the grim faces of his son's concerned team, all of whom sat in a waiting area outside the glass walls of the ICU, their eyes fixed to the floor. As he approached, they looked up, one by one. He noticed the puffy, red eyes of both Abby and Ziva, who sat together, holding hands and offering each other comfort and support. Agent McGee sat opposite them, his forearm bandaged and supported in a sling. He looked a little green around the gills, Jackson noticed. Beside him was a pale, shaken looking, bespectacled young man whom he didn't recognise. He would later find out that it was Dr. Mallard's assistant, Jimmy Palmer. One face conspicuous by its absence was that of Anthony DiNozzo. The stern looking middle-aged man, dressed in the sharp suit and getting to his feet he recognised as Leon Vance.

Jackson stopped in his tracks, fearing from the expressions on their faces, that he was too late. They all looked so upset. His gaze connected with one or two of theirs and they struggled to look him in the eye. He felt a stab in his heart as he absorbed their combined hurt. There was a noticeable void in the air and he was convinced his son was dead.

Without warning, Abby jumped to her feet, pushing past the director and threw her arms around Jack.

"Oh, Jack!" was all she could manage.

Jack knew from previous encounters what an emotional creature Ms. Sciuto was and returned her hug with similar affection. To feel the comfort of another at a time like this was powerful and right now he really needed to feel that he wasn't alone. However, neither Abby's actions nor the rest of the teams muttered greetings told him what he needed to know.

"Am I too late?" he eventually had to ask, desperate to find out for sure.

Abby stopped immediately and theatrically released him from her vice-like grip. She grasped his two arms and pushed herself away from him.

"Too late for what?" she asked venomously, knowing exactly what he meant but disgusted that he could even think it.

Vance was quick to step in and save Jackson from a tongue-lashing from the distraught young woman. His heart went out to the old man, knowing how he must be feeling right now. He could barely imagine how he would feel if it were one of his kids lying in the ICU, not knowing if they would live or die.

"No, Jack, he's out of surgery and in the ICU. Ducky is in with him at the moment. They're only letting one person in at a time," Leon explained.

"Oh, thank God," he said, sounding relieved.

Vance patted his shoulder as a gesture of solidarity. Jack shuffled on through the sliding door into the ICU and explained to the nurses who he was. He was taken immediately to his son's room. Dr. Mallard was sitting by his son's bed looking emotional and exhausted. His cheek was grazed and his clothes were stained. He got to his feet as soon as he saw Jackson. The old man paused a couple of steps inside the door of the room. He thought he was prepared for this, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his only child at death's door.

"Jack, why don't you take a seat?" Ducky said, noticing how he had suddenly paled. He offered him the plastic chair upon which he had been sitting.

Jack took another couple of steps towards him before asking;

"How is he, Ducky?"

Ducky sighed with a heavy heart. No matter how much he wanted to, there was no point shielding the man from the truth. He had a right to know.

"He's in a coma, Jack. He's lost too much blood," he explained as clearly as he could. "Because of the extent of his injuries and the blood loss, they haven't been able to stabilise him. As difficult as it is for me to accept, they don't hold out much hope. I'm so sorry."

"They don't know my son, Ducky," Jackson pointed out. "He's a survivor."

"That he is, Jack," Ducky agreed. "But there's only so much a body can take. The machine is breathing for him. I don't know if you're a religious man, Jack, but the doctor's have done everything they can. It's in God's hands now. You should be prepared. There may be some difficult decisions ahead."

Jackson looked at Ducky, whose eyes were mirroring his own pain. Ducky walked over to face him and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, wishing he could do something, anything, to fix this. But his heart was already broken, realising that he was probably going to lose a good friend in the next few hours. He thought it prudent to leave Jackson to spend some private time with his gravely injured son.

"I'll be just outside if you need me," he said as he left.

Jackson thanked him and continued over to where Jethro lay. He sat onto the chair and awkwardly took hold of his son's hand. He tried to remember the last time he had held his son's hand and couldn't. He cringed when he looked at his bare chest and saw the long dressing covering an incision right down his sternum. Another bandage was wrapped around his upper arm. The bed sheet covered him from his abdomen down and he could not see any further injuries. He watched as Jethro's chest rose and fell in time to the respirator. It was strangely comforting. It meant that his son was still alive.

"Leroy, I'm here, son," he said softly, giving Gibbs' hand a gentle squeeze. To him he was forever Leroy. "Don't leave me son, please. I can't bear to lose anyone else," he said, referring to the loss of his wife, Catherine, when Gibbs was just a boy and then his only grandchild, Gibbs' daughter, Kelly.

The elder Gibbs swept away a solitary tear that escaped down his cheek. He bit his lower lip, doing his utmost to keep his fraught emotions in check. He cast an eye at the monitor to his right as it beeped reassuringly. He willed his son to keep fighting. If anyone could prove them wrong, it was his son.

For hours Jackson sat there. Each hour that passed gave him an extra sliver of hope that his son was winning this fight. His son's colleagues were wonderful support to him, checking on him, bringing him coffee and sandwiches, but he couldn't eat. He was trying to prepare himself for the worst while at the same time praying that it would never happen. As he sat there, he realised that for decades he had been preparing himself. From the day his only son joined the Marine Corps, he had resigned himself to the fact that one day his son would not come home. It hadn't been easy to watch his teenage son, so full of angst and anger, pack up and walk away from everything he had built for him, to pursue a military career. Deep down he was proud of his son, despite having his personal aspirations crushed. He had hoped that one day his son would take over the family business, the general store in Stillwater. But it became clear as his son became a man, his main motivation was to get away from Stillwater and away from him. He could hardly blame him, though.

He began to reminisce on how their once solid father-son relationship came undone. It was the life-altering loss of his beloved wife, Leroy's mother, that shook their very foundation. Jackson hadn't handled Catherine's death very well. Leroy was barely a teenager at the time. Instead of bringing the two of them together, it drove them apart. Jackson withdrew from life and from his son. He was so devastated by his own loss that he completely overlooked the fact that his son was hurting too and needed his father. But instead, Jack sought comfort in the arms of other women; it didn't really matter who. But his actions soon turned his son against him. By the time Leroy finished high school, he joined up and moved away. He couldn't stand to be around his father any more.

It had often crossed Jackson's mind and he thought it cruelly ironic that his son had also suffered the tragic loss of his young wife years later. Of course, it had to be much worse losing his only child as well. Jack saw this as history repeating itself. He too had lost his wife and in almost every way, his son. Although his son was alive, he was lost to him, no longer part of his life. He had tried to be there at the funerals but his son made t clear that he wasn't welcome. He had thrown away any semblance of a normal relationship with him. He was grateful that within the last year or two they were finally starting to put the pieces back together. Things had slowly improved to the point that they were spending time together. He was proud of the man his son had become. He loved him deeply but, like most men, had never expressed it. Leroy was his only son, his legacy, and he was adamant that it was not his time. No man should bury his child, he believed, then only truly understanding the depth of the loss that his son had suffered. He wasn't sure how he would cope if the worst happened. He tried not to think about it.

He passed the hours talking to his son. Insignificant little one way conversations – about people he grew up with in Stillwater, the high school basketball team, major league baseball, his mother, anything that came into his head. He wanted his son to know that he was by his side and fighting the battle for survival with him. His son would not die alone…..his son would not die!

**_TBC_**

**_A/N - I've no idea what Gibbs' mother's name was but for some reson the name Catherine came into my head. Please let me know if anyone knows her correct name. And sorry for dragging this out...but I did promise that it was an angsty piece!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N - Thanks for all your reviews. A quick reminder that this is still only hours after the shooting. The part of the chapter in italics are memories.**_

Chapter 4

Ducky exited the ICU and, without a word, swept straight past the rest of the team who were in the waiting area, anxiously waiting for any morsel of news.

"Ducky?" Abby said, confused as to why he had just completely ignored them.

She got to her feet to go after him when Tim grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"Leave him, Abby. I think he needs to be alone for a while," he told her, sensing Ducky's anguish.

Abby watched as he rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, his head bowed and shoulders hunched, looking thoroughly defeated. Difficult and all as this was for her, she realised how much worse it must have been for Ducky, having been there when it happened. She could only imagine his terror and his shock.

Ducky sought sanctuary in the hospital chapel. He sat into a pew, put his head in his hands and allowed his pent-up emotions to flow. This had been one of the hardest days of his entire life. He had seen some horrific things as a younger man, especially during wartime, but the shock and senselessness of this morning's attack had really shaken him to the core. No matter how much he tried to block them out, the events replayed over and over in his mind.

_It had started out as a beautiful autumnal morning with a refreshing breeze sweeping across the Potomac. The MCRT had been called to a park, located in the Georgetown area of Washington, where a pregnant female Navy captain had been found strangled. Sadly, the scene appeared no different to dozens of other murder scenes the team had worked on over the years. Gibbs, wearing his usual NCIS baseball cap, was barking orders at his younger charges, making sure no evidence was overlooked. Tony insisted on winding McGee up over some girl he had gone out with the previous night all the while snapping crime scene photographs. Ziva was examining the area for anything that could be considerd evidence. Ducky was where he usually was, with the victim and Jimmy was trying to be helpful while unintentionally making inappropriate jokes – just another day. That was until the blue Lexus pulled up just outside the police cordon. _

_Ducky hadn't paid much attention to the car or the driver until the driver stepped out of the car. That was when Ducky noticed he was dressed in formal Navy dress whites. How dashing he looked, Ducky thought initially. He couldn't help but wonder what the officer was doing there. He watched as the man started to walk towards the cordon as if he had business being there. He had something in his hand but that didn't really register with Ducky at the time, until he heard the first shots._

_Short, multiple bursts – Ducky remembered someone crashing into him, knocking him to the ground and his face hitting the gravel. Bullets bit into the ground close to his head. He heard a yelp somewhere to his left and knew instinctively that someone had been hit. Between the sounds of the shots, he could hear bystanders screaming and crying and trying to get away. As he lay there with both hands shielding his head, he heard several more shots, this time with a distinct difference. Without raising his head, he concluded that they were coming from another weapon. Seconds later an uneasy silence descended. As the dust settled, he heard some movement ahead of him and he slowly raised his head to see. Ziva was first to her feet and moving swiftly in the direction of the shooter, her weapon drawn. Then he heard her scream._

"_Gibbs!" she shouted as she broke into a run. "No! Please no."_

_Assuming the danger had passed, Ducky clambered shakily to his feet and tried to absorb the scene in front of him. He turned himself a full three hundred and sixty degrees, examining the carnage. On one side he could see the shooter now lying on his back facing skywards, his once snow white uniform now steadily turning crimson. Close to him, Ziva was on her knees beside Gibbs, who was also prone on the ground. He watched as she rolled him onto his back and saw the horror in her face as she did so. McGee was running towards Tony, who also appeared hurt, and young Jimmy was just getting to his feet, looking shaken but unharmed. Bystanders were fleeing from the scene. One or two remained on the ground and also appeared to be injured. Metro police officers, who were already present on scene, rushed to help those that they could. Ducky was momentarily rooted to the spot in disbelief. How on earth could this happen? It wasn't long before his instinctive need to help the injured overcame his initial shock. He tried to take some control of the situation._

"_Jimmy, see if you can help Tony!" he ordered, grateful that his young charge was uninjured and knowing that he couldn't do this alone._

_Ducky hurried over to where Gibbs lay. He balked slightly when he saw Gibbs' NCIS issue jacket already soaked in blood. To his amazement his friend was still clinging to consciousness. Gibbs' eyes were wide with fear as he fought for each breath. Ducky could see there was blood in his throat that was restricting his airway, effectively choking him. Ziva looked up at Ducky, her eyes pleading for him to do something._

"_Help me roll him onto his side," he said urgently to Ziva as he knelt down beside her. When his knees met the ground, he quickly realised that he was kneeling in a growing pool of his friend's blood. _

_Carefully, they rolled Gibbs onto his side, and as they did so, a guttural moan escaped him followed by a bloody cough. _

"_Don't you give up on me, Jethro!" Ducky ordered. "Come on, stay with me, son."_

_Ducky stole a cautionary glance at the fallen shooter. It was obvious from his vacant gaze that he was already beyond help. He returned his attention to his wounded colleague._

_Despite Ducky's best efforts, Gibbs soon lost his battle to stay conscious. Ducky removed Gibbs' jacket to reveal a shocking exit wound in his friend's back. He placed his hand over it to try and curb the stream of blood. He sent Ziva to the coroner's truck where his medical bag was stored. She retrieved it and hurried back. Ducky immediately took out a scissors and cut away Gibbs' shirt to reveal his bare chest to allow him a closer look at his wounds. _

_Blood bubbled freely from a wound in the middle of Gibbs' abdomen. The entry wound on the right hand side of his chest corresponded with the exit wound in his back, Ducky surmised. He located a third entry wound in Gibbs' upper arm. Ducky handed Ziva gauze and a pressure bandage to use to try and stem the blood flow from Gibbs' chest wound while he tried to do the same on the abdominal wound. Experience told him that his friend's wounds were potentially fatal, but he was going to do everything in his power to save him._

"_Jimmy, how is he?" Ducky shouted over to his young assistant, who was doing his best to help the second fallen agent._

"_Not so good," Jimmy replied, panic evident in his voice._

"_I'll be there in a minute," Ducky replied. _

_Having to choose between these two men, with whom he had developed deep personal relationships throughout the years, was very difficult. Knowing how badly Jethro was injured, Ducky felt that maybe he should concentrate on Tony, who possibly stood a better chance at survival. He knew the odds were stacked against Jethro. Right at that moment, however, Gibbs was in the more immediate danger of bleeding to death and he just couldn't bring himself to walk away and leave his friend to die. Gibbs wouldn't give up, so neither would he._

_Ducky knew that his priority had to be to stop or at least slow Gibbs' bleeding. Noting the strength and volume of the blood being lost from the abdominal wound, Ducky surmised that a major blood vessel had been damaged. He knew what he had to do. To Ziva's horror, he produced a scalpel from his kit and a bottle of antiseptic. Her eyes widened in terror, but she trusted that Ducky knew what he was doing. He poured the antiseptic all over Gibbs' abdomen. Then, without hesitation, he made a decisive incision either side of the bullet wound. Ziva couldn't look as he started to probe the incision with his fingers. She did her best to maintain pressure on the other wounds while Ducky worked. The urgency and the unsanitary conditions reminded him of his Army days when he served in the Medical Corps. Working in the field was part of the norm back then. It had been decades, but it was funny how quickly it all came flooding back to him._

_Despite the conditions, Ducky was able to locate the damaged blood vessel and quickly clamped the bleeder, hoping it would be enough to ensure that Gibbs had a fighting chance of making it to the hospital. He knew he had done all he could for his friend. Reluctantly, he left Ziva maintaining pressure on Gibbs' wounds and turned his attention to DiNozzo._

_Tony lay on his back, his eyes wide with fear, gasping for every agonising breath. Despite his own injury, he kept asking for Gibbs. Jimmy and Tim were doing their best to reassure him as he battled for life. Ducky saw the entry wound low down in his chest and recognised Tony's symptoms immediately, his shortness of breath, the bluish tinge on his lips. He listened to the left side of his chest just to be sure and it confirmed his suspicions. _

"_There's blood in your pleural cavity, Tony, and it's compressing your lung, making it difficult for you to breath," Ducky told him. "It's going to be okay," Ducky said to the young agent. "I'm going to insert a tube and it should make it a bit easier for you to breath."_

_All he needed now was a chest tube. _

"_Tim, give me your pen," Ducky said, thinking quickly. _

_A curious McGee sorely reached into his inside pocket and handed his pen to the doctor. That was when Ducky noticed that McGee was also injured. The growing bloodstain on his jacket sleeve told its own story. McGee noticed Ducky's concerned expression and discounted his own injury immediately._

"_I'm okay," he insisted, not wanting to distract the doctor's attention from his fallen comrade. _

_Ducky didn't argue. He didn't have time. He counted down Tony's ribs and prepared to cut into the side of his chest._

"_This is going to hurt but I promise you'll feel much better after I do it," Ducky said to Tony. Tony nodded as best he could manage and gripped Palmer's hand tightly in anticipation._

_Ducky carefully made the small incision in the wall of Tony's chest. Having removed the ink reservoir from the inside of McGee's pen, he used the outer plastic tube and manipulated it into Tony's chest cavity. The pain was excruciating and Tony passed out, much to Ducky's relief. He relaxed a little when a steady trickle of blood started to flow out of the makeshift chest tube, thus relieving the pressure on Tony's lung. Ducky reached to check his pulse for reassurance. It was weak but steady._

"_Jimmy, use this and put pressure on that wound," Ducky said, handing him another pressure bandage. "Where the hell is that ambulance?" he snapped._

_Jimmy and Tim exchanged glances, knowing how unusual it was for Ducky to use crude language, but he was under exceptional stress, which made it excusable._

"_How's the boss?" Tim finally asked, looking over at an obviously distressed Agent David. She looked like she was crying. He had never seen her cry before._

_Ducky just shook his head, which really frightened McGee. _

"_Tim, I need you to stay with Tony," Duck said. "I have to get back to Jethro."_

"_Sure," McGee replied, cushioning his partner's head with his good hand but looking over at his fallen boss._

_Ducky returned and knelt back down beside Ziva and his wounded friend. The clamp was doing its job, but Jethro was still losing blood from his other wounds. He was so relieved to hear the sound of sirens in the distance. A fleet of ambulances arrived and Metro PD took control of the scene. As paramedics descended to treat the victims, Ducky concisely described Gibbs' and Tony's injuries and his course of treatment so far. He insisted that Gibbs be prioritised and transported immediately. _

_The paramedics only had to look at the injured man to realise that the aged ME was right. Time was of the essence with this man. Ducky enquired to which hospital they were due to travel. Upon hearing the name of the hospital, Ducky advised them that Gibbs should be taken to Bethesda instead as it had a level one trauma centre. Again the paramedics agreed, even though it would add several minutes travel time to their journey. They knew he would need the expertise of the military hospital to deal with his multiple injuries. Within minutes, Gibbs was on a gurney and secured in the back of the ambulance. Ducky climbed in to accompany him on the journey. He needed to be with his friend. Already knowing the seriousness of his condition, the last thing he wanted was for Gibbs to die alone in the back of an ambulance. _

_He would never forget the ambulance journey as he watched the paramedic battle to keep his friend alive. Ducky considered the fact that Jethro was still breathing when they reached Bethesda to be a miracle. Once they pulled up, Gibbs was consumed by a melee of doctors and nurses, who redlined him straight to the OR. It was at that moment, when the crowd disappeared, that Ducky began to pray. _

_It wasn't long after that when the next ambulance pulled up carrying DiNozzo and McGee. That awful, helpless feeling gnawed away at him as he sat waiting for news of the two agents. The rest of the team eventually reached the hospital and joined him in the waiting room where they waited tentatively together for hours. Receiving the news that Tony was out of surgery and resting comfortably was such a relief to them all. All the while, Ducky struggled with the knowledge of the seriousness of Gibbs' injuries but refrained from sharing his concerns with the team. How could he take away their hope? In the waiting room, he and Ziva often exchanged frightened glances. Having seen for herself, she didn't need a medical degree to know how bad it was. There was no point terrifying the others, though, she knew that. _

_When the doctor finally came out and told them that Gibbs had made it through surgery, Ducky knew it was a miracle._

Now as he sat alone in the tiny chapel and looked up at the stained-glass depiction of the Madonna and child, he dared pray for another.

_TBC_

**_A/N - hope that explains what happened. As always, I love to hear what you think._**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N - Again, many thanks to all who reviewed and alerted. FYI, writing in italics signify thoughts._**

Chapter 5

FBI Special Agent Tobias Fornell exited the elevator in the NCIS building and scanned the floor for Gibbs or one of his team. As he rounded the divide, he realised that none of Gibbs' team were at their desks. Damn it, he thought. He cast a brief eye up towards the door of MTAC and wondered if he was in there. They couldn't be gone home yet. It was barely 6.30pm. As another member of the NCIS staff passed by him, he stopped her.

"Hey," he said, a little rudely. "Are they out?"

The woman's face changed and she put her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, goodness, you haven't heard, have you?" she asked with dread.

"Heard what?" Fornell asked, his face a picture of confusion.

"There was a shooting this morning at a crime scene. Agent Gibbs and Agent DiNozzo were shot," she told him gravely.

"Ah hell!" Fornell exclaimed. "Are they okay?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

"We're only hearing bits and pieces of information but last I heard, one of them is dead," she said sadly.

"What? Who?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I'm sorry."

Fornell turned away and rubbed his forehead as a tension headache suddenly set in. He walked towards the elevator before turning back abruptly and asking,

"Which hospital?"

"Bethesda," she replied, watching as he impatiently pressed the elevator call button.

Fornell wasted no time getting back to his car and drove like a madman all the way to the hospital.

_That would explain why the old bastard wouldn't answer my calls all day. And I thought he was just being a prick. How the hell did he manage to get himself shot? He's been around long enough to know better. Hell, he's one of the old school and there aren't many of us dinosaurs left. The son-of-a-bitch better not die on me._

When he got to the hospital he enquired about the two agents and was directed to the ICU. As he stepped out of the elevator, he could see a group of people sitting around in the waiting area. He recognised them instantly as Gibbs' team and approached them with a sense of dread. There was an uneasy silence as he approached. Vance noticed him coming, stood up and walked down the corridor to meet him. Following a contrite handshake, Fornell had to ask the unthinkable.

"So, which one is it then?" he asked with a sigh.

"Excuse me?" Vance asked, not sure what he meant.

"I heard that one of them died," Fornell explained.

"No, not yet anyway," Vance replied, shaking his head. "DiNozzo's going to be okay but Gibbs isn't doing so well," Vance told him.

The sigh that escaped Fornell was audible throughout the waiting area. _Damn it!_

"What happened out there?" Fornell asked the NCIS director, knowing it had to be something exceptional to take Gibbs down.

Vance explained, as well as he could, the events of that morning. Tobias listened intently, uttering the occasional expletive as he did so. Vance told him everything, right down to the doctor's devastating prognosis.

"Screw that!" Fornell proclaimed. "He obviously doesn't know what a stubborn son-of-a-bitch Gibbs is."

Vance smiled and agreed with the FBI agent, but still found it difficult to find solace in his words. He had seen Gibbs lying in the ICU not long ago. He wouldn't have believed it unless he had seen it for himself. He had always believed that Gibbs was this unstoppable force, but now he was reminded that he was only human after all. Fornell asked if he could see his old friend. Vance explained that Gibbs' father was with him.

"In fact, he's been in there for hours and could do with a break. I'll try and get him to come with me and get some coffee or something," Vance decided, as he guided Fornell towards Gibbs' ICU room.

Fornell had never meet Gibbs' father before and was touched to see the elderly gent at his son's bedside, his hand resting on that of his unconscious son. The old man looked drawn and tired. He turned when he heard someone entering the room.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet, Tobias Fornell, a good friend of Jethro's," Vance said, introducing the man entering behind him.

Jackson stood up straight away and shook Fornell's hand confidently.

"Nice to meet you," Fornell said as he held the shake.

"You too," Jackson replied.

"How's he doing?" Fornell asked, looking past Jackson's shoulder to the ghostly pale figure in the bed.

"I wish I could say fine, but honestly, I don't know. He's hanging on," he said as his eyes filled up again.

"I'll sit with him for a while if you'd like to take a break," Fornell offered kindly.

"No, that's okay, I'd like to be here if…..," Jackson began but couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Really, Jack, you should get something to eat. Keep your strength up," Vance insisted. "C'mon, we won't be gone for long."

Vance wasn't taking no for an answer and Jackson was too exhausted to argue. He decided to go with him for a while.

"Come and get me if there's any change," Jackson said to Fornell as he reluctantly walked away.

"Of course," Fornell promised.

All of a sudden he found himself alone in the ICU room, staring at his old friend as he fought the fight of his life. Apprehensively, he approached the bed. Being a man of few words, he struggled to figure out what to say. There were no words to express his feelings at that moment. He and Gibbs were so alike, old school and strong believers in "trust your gut" law enforcement. It had served them both well down through the years.

"I thought you'd have learned to keep out of trouble by now," he said, not knowing if his friend could hear him or not. "Don't you go getting any ideas of dying on me or anything like that. You're going to get better. You've no choice. Do you have any idea how many people are sitting out there, praying for you to pull through? They're your family, Jethro, and you can't let them down. You have to fight for me, man, for them. I wish I could help you with this fight, old friend, I really do, but I'm here," he said, squeezing Gibbs' right hand, half hoping that it would force him to open his eyes.

Fornell shook his head. The injustice of Gibbs lying there was almost too much. It was wrong. He was a damn fine agent and a good man. Fornell knew all too well what a pain in the ass he could be, but he always got the job done. He would do anything for his friends and would unquestionably lay down his life for his team. Then he realised that was exactly how he ended up where he lay. He wondered if anyone had told him about his team.

"They're okay, you know," he told him. "Your team, they're fine. Even DiNutzo," he said, deliberately getting the senior field agent's name wrong as usual. "Doctors say he'll be fine. You saved them, Gibbs. Now they need for you to pull through."

Fornell felt awkward, even stupid, talking to Gibbs, knowing that he probably couldn't even hear him. Yet he gained some reassurance standing there, watching Gibbs' chest rise and fall with each artificial breath. He was almost mesmerized by the rhythmic sound. Then he was suddenly brought down to earth with a bang when an alarm started to sound in the room. Fornell turned quickly and stuck his head through the door and called for help.

Almost instantly, a crash team descended the room.

"What's going on? What's happening?" Fornell demanded, realising that something was very wrong.

"Sorry, sir, you'll have to step outside," a nurse replied, ushering him through the door.

He peered helplessly through the glass wall, desperately trying to see what was happening. Then he remembered Gibbs' father's parting words. He had to let him know. Knowing that Vance was with him, he scrolled through his cell phone contacts and placed a frantic call to the NCIS director, telling him to get Jackson Gibbs back to the ICU immediately. Fornell continued to watch as the team of medics worked around Gibbs. A learned-looking doctor jogged down the corridor, brushing past Fornell and entered Gibbs' room. He stood, listening intently as a nurse informed him what was going on. He placed his stethoscope on Gibbs' chest and listened to both sides. Fornell saw him nodding and agreeing with the nurse. Then he walked to the door and spoke to Fornell.

"Are you his next-of-kin?" he asked grimly.

"Eh, no," Fornell replied, sounding a little shaken. "He's on his way, though. Is he going to be okay?"

"I'm afraid he's taken a turn for the worse," the doctor said, not elaborating beyond that.

He didn't have to. Fornell got the picture. He was never so glad to see anyone as he was to see Director Vance and Jackson Gibbs hurrying along the corridor towards him.

"What's happened?" Jackson asked breathlessly.

"Are you the next-of-kin?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, I'm his father," Jackson replied. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Your son has developed a clot, which has travelled to his lung. Administering anti-coagulants would be normal procedure in this instance. These would usually dissolve a clot. However, in your son's case, there is a real risk that it could induce secondary internal haemorrhaging. If we don't try, the clot will most likely travel to his heart, which would prove fatal," the doctor explained seriously.

"What?" Jackson said, sounding confused. "I don't understand."

"Mr. Gibbs, I need you to make a decision. We don't have much time," the doctor said, maintaining eye contact with the elderly gent.

"I….I can't. Where's Ducky? I need to ask Ducky," Jackson asked nervously.

"I'll find him," Vance said, taking off towards the main door of the ICU and to the waiting room.

"Has anyone seen Ducky?" he asked, unable to mask the urgency.

"Eh, I think he went to the chapel," McGee told him with a worried expression on his face.

Abby jumped to her feet, realising that something was wrong. Vance was already jogging towards the chapel.

"What's wrong?" she called after him. He didn't even turn around. "Tell me what's happening," she cried, turning back toward McGee with a desperate look in her eyes.

She couldn't take it. She had to know. She burst through the main door of the ICU and ran straight to Gibbs' room. She saw the medical team surrounding her beloved Gibbs. She slowed to a hesitant walk. Her gaze fixated on the group. She hardly noticed Jackson or Tobias until Tobias grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from entering the room.

"What are you doing?" she snapped. "Let me go!"

"You'll only be in the way in there, Abby. You need to let them work," he explained calmly.

"But I need to be with him," she replied, wrenching her arm free.

"I know you do…..but right now there's nothing any of us can do," he said remorsefully.

She knew Fornell was right and hated him for it. She stood and stared through the door like a lost lamb. Without a word, Jackson Gibbs put his two strong arms around her and hugged her tightly. She wept and it took all his strength for Jackson not to do the same. As he looked over her shoulder, he saw Ducky and Vance approaching hastily. Witnessing the scene from afar, Ducky's heart plummeted, fearing that his friend had passed. Jackson gently pulled away from Abby when he saw Ducky approaching.

"I need to have a word with Ducky," he whispered to her.

Drying her eyes, she nodded and released him from her grip. Ducky and Jackson took a short walk along the corridor before Jackson stopped and turned to the ME.

"I don't know what to do, Ducky," Jackson began. "They want to give LJ medication to break up a clot, but said it could cause internal bleeding if they give it to him. If he doesn't get the medicine, he could die. If he does, he could die. It sounds to me like I'm going to lose my son no matter what I tell them to do," he explained, his heartbreak evident in his words.

"It's a really difficult decision, Jack," Ducky replied, sensing Jackson's turmoil.

"What would you do if it was your child?" Jackson asked.

Ducky paused and considered the question. His relationship with Gibbs was very close, much more than just colleagues. For years, he considered Gibbs to be the son he never had and he often thought that Gibbs in some ways felt the same. For so many years, Gibbs had no relationship with his own father and Ducky so often felt like a surrogate, providing guidance, advice and comfort. Every day Ducky worried about the dangers Gibbs and his team faced in the line of duty. Sometimes the unthinkable had happened. First Kate and then Jenny ended up on the table in his morgue. Theirs were the hardest autopsies of his life. He couldn't imagine ever managing doing one on Gibbs. There was no way he could do it. He contemplated things some more before giving Jackson his opinion.

"If the clot migrates to his heart he'll arrest and die. There's isn't really an option here, Jack. If he starts to bleed internally because of the anticoagulant, there are other options. But hopefully it won't come to that. If he was my son, I'd give him the Heparin," Ducky said without any hesitation.

Jackson looked him in the eye and grasped his hand to shake it.

"Thank you, Ducky, then that's what we'll do," Jackson replied.

Gibbs' worn out father turned back towards his son's room. With the weight of the world on his shoulders and tears in his eyes, he walked past Abby, Vance and Fornell and into the room. He took hold of his son's hand and instructed the doctor to administer the Heparin. The doctor did as instructed and injected the anti-coagulant into the IV line.

"Now all we can do is wait and monitor him closely for any changes in his condition," the doctor told Jackson as he wrote up Gibbs' chart. Jackson resumed his vigil at his son's bedside.

"Come on," Vance said to the others who continued to watch through the ICU room door. "There's nothing we can do here. We're only in the way."

Fornell and Ducky agreed. Abby was a bit more reluctant to leave, but the director was insistent. She followed Vance and Fornell back to the waiting room and they told the others the latest developments. No one knew what the next few hours would bring? It was going to be their longest night.

TBC

_**A/N - sorry, I know that I'm torturing some of you. Hope its not too much.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N - for all of you who are worried about Tony, read on! _**

Chapter 6

Despite the number of people present, the waiting room outside the ICU in Bethesda was a sombre and quiet place that night. This whole episode seemed surreal and the NCIS team were doing their best to cope with the situation they now found themselves in. Despite Director Vance's attempts to get some of the team to go home and rest, they all elected to stay at the hospital that night. He called his wife and explained to her what had happened and told her that he would be staying with them. The others didn't have anyone at home waiting for their calls. All they had was each other, Vance realised. Right now two of their family were hurt and there was no way they were going to leave them.

They tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible. The waiting room had two sofa-type seats positioned either side of a coffee table. There were also two large armchairs either end of the table. Sleep did not come easy to anyone that night, although they did doze now and again. During the night a nurse took pity on them and brought out a few pillows and blankets and gave them to the exhausted looking bunch. Occasionally, one of them would get up and take a short walk to the ICU to check on Gibbs or Tony. Tony was resting comfortably with his father a constant at his side. Gibbs' condition still hadn't deteriorated as had been expected and he was holding his own. The Heparin appeared to be working and Gibbs' SATS were slowly improving.

Jackson Gibbs spent the entire night in the tiny ICU room at his son's side. He must have dozed off at some stage because when he eventually woke, it was with a start. He raised his head from where it rested on the edge of his son's bed. For an instant he was disorientated. Then he remembered where he was. He chastised himself for his human weakness in allowing himself to fall asleep. He turned anxiously towards his son to check that he was still alive. He was. With no window to allow natural light into the room, Jackson couldn't tell if it was day or night. He checked his watch. It was 5.45 am. His son had made it through the night, contrary to expectations.

"That's my boy," he whispered, patting the back of Jethro's hand.

Jackson stretched and straightened his back before getting to his feet stiffly. His neck and back ached from the awkward way he had spent the night. He decided to take a short walk to get the blood circulating again and loosen the muscles. His stroll took him past the waiting area where his son's exhausted team lay dozing. Director Vance sat snoozing in an armchair, his head lolling to one side and his mouth open. His legs were stretched out and resting on the coffee table in front of him. Ducky was curled up on his side on an uncomfortable looking wooden bench that ran along the wall and Palmer sat in the corner on he same bench. A hospital-issue pillow offered small comfort to the worn out ME. McGee was stuck in the middle of one sofa with Abby curled up on his right, her head resting on his lap.

Ziva was slouched the other side of him, her head leaning against his. Fornell sat awake on the opposite sofa, his feet also outstretched on the table. As soon as he saw Jackson, he quietly got to his feet, anxious for an update.

"Any change?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not really," Jackson replied. "But he's fighting."

"Have you ever known him not to?" Fornell asked.

Jackson shook his head.

"Nope. One thing you could always count on was for LJ to buck the odds," Jackson said, smiling.

He looked over at the sleeping group.

"They all stayed," he remarked, impressed by their loyalty.

"Of course they did," Fornell replied. "He's more than just their boss, you know?"

Jackson smiled, glad to know that his son had people around him who cared for him.

"How about some breakfast?" Fornell suggested.

"I wasn't planning to leave him for very long," Jackson told him.

"Don't worry," Fornell replied. "I know someone who would just love to sit with him for a while."

Abby didn't need to be asked twice. She quickly woke when roused by Fornell and hurried to the ICU, only stopping briefly at the vending machine at the end of the hall to refuel. Then she assumed a position close to the head of Gibbs' bed.

"Oh, Gibbs," she sighed, detesting seeing him so gravely ill. She placed the coffee on the bedside table and took his hand gently in hers. "I knew you wouldn't leave me. The doctors were saying awful things like you mightn't ...well ... you know. But I knew you wouldn't do that to me. Anyway, just in case you don't know the routine, if you see any bright lights, stay away from them, far, far away from them!" she warned as only Abby could.

She leaned closely into Gibbs' personal space and looked at him intensely.

"I know you're in a coma, Gibbs, but you _are_ listening to me, right?" she asked almost as a teacher would a pupil. "Can you believe this hospital doesn't have a Caf Pow machine?" she said as she started to pace nervously up and down the length of the bed, her hands gesticulating as they usually did when she was anxious. "Of all places not to have a Caf Pow machine! I mean think of all the exhausted medical staff, relatives, patients – they'd make a fortune with just one machine! I'm really hitting a brick wall here, Gibbs. That's why I'm sucking on this….. this pseudo coffee, vending machine muck, not exactly top shelf. It's terrible, really terrible, but at least it's caffeine. I brought you one, just in case you had woken up. I know how you need your coffee in the mornings. I'll leave it here for you," she said, waving it enticingly under his nose before placing it on the bedside table.

"Promise me this, Gibbs, follow the smell of the coffee and stay away from any inviting looking lights. Coffee good ... white light bad! As soon as you're awake I'll bring you your favourite caffinated tipple," she promised, renewing her pacing. "You do know that you'll have to wake soon. Vance will want us back at work and, well, I can't hang around here forever. Not that I don't want to, you know I do, but I have responsibilities and if Vance puts a temp in my lab, you know how I hate anyone else using my lab."

Abby continued on and on, rambling away, making sense to only herself. She continued talking to drown out the deafening silence that permeated the room. The silence only served to remind her of the fact that Gibbs was still critically ill. Even though he didn't respond when she spoke to him, it didn't bother her. Gibbs was a man of few words at the best of times. What she did miss was the little reassuring pecks on the cheek that he so often rewarded her with. She sure could do with one right now. She stopped pacing suddenly, leaned over and placed a similar kiss on Gibbs' cheek.

"Come back to me," she whispered into his ear.

She resumed her pacing. She had been sitting all night, drinking bad coffee and feeling useless. She hated feeling useless. She chattered on about hating hospitals, constantly reminding Gibbs that he really had to get out of here soon, because it was too much to expect her to come here and visit, especially knowing how much she hated hospitals.

Meanwhile, in a room just down the hall, McGee was checking on the two DiNozzos. He peeked in the door and saw DiNozzo Senior fast asleep on a chair beside his son's bed. He was about to turn and leave when he heard a soft call.

"McGee!"

It was Tony. McGee had presumed that he was still asleep and had failed to notice in the dim ligh that his eyes were open.

"Tony?" he whispered, creeping in, trying not to disturb Tony's father.

"Heh, can you believe he came?" Tony said, gesturing towards his father.

"Sure I can," McGee replied. "He's your dad."

"On paper, anyway," Tony replied harshly.

"How are you feeling?" McGee asked.

"I got shot, McGee, so I'm just peachy," Tony replied grumpily.

His father started to stir in the chair when he heard voices. He opened his eyes and saw McGee standing over him. He jumped up with a start.

"Tony?" he said, twisting towards the bed, scared that something had happened to his son.

"I'm fine, Dad," Tony said, sounding rather bored with the fuss. "McGee, where's Gibbs?" Tony asked, wondering why his boss hadn't been to see him. His recollection of the events that led to his hospitalisation was hazy. He was pretty sure Gibbs hadn't been to see him and that was starting to worry him.

McGee and DiNozzo Senior exchanged concerned glances. Tony read the looks and immediately his instinct told him that something had happened to Gibbs.

"Oh, God," he said, automatically presuming the worst. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's not dead," McGee said unconvincingly.

"Tell me, McGee!" Tony said, trying to sit up and instantly regretting it.

"Okay, Tony, take it easy," he said, putting his uninjured hand on Tony's shoulder and gently easing him back down. "Gibbs is down the hall. He's listed as critical," he told him before hesitating momentarily. There was no easy way to break it to him. "He might not pull through," he eventually told him.

"No," Tony said calmly, shaking his head. "No," he repeated, pressing his head deep down into the pillow and turning away from the two men to his right.

_This isn't happening. Maybe I'm dreaming. This is just a nightmare. That's what it is, it's a nightmare. That would explain it. If this were real, my father wouldn't be here, would he?_

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a few seconds before opening them again extra wide. He turned to his right and they were both still there.

"Tony, are you okay?" his father asked, noticing his strange behaviour.

"This isn't a dream?" he asked seriously.

"Sorry, Tony. It's no dream," McGee replied.

"So Gibbs is …?" Tony began but couldn't say it.

McGee just nodded. What could he say? Right now, no one knew anything other than their lives had irrevocably changed following a few seconds of bloody mayhem at a crime scene roughly eighteen hours ago.

"I want to see him," Tony said with determination.

"Son, you can't. I mean, you've just had major surgery yourself. You need to rest," DiNozzo Senior reminded him.

"McGee?" Tony said, trying to give him his best Gibbs' glare.

"I agree with your father, Tony. You were shot, remember? You're not allowed out of bed. Maybe later, I'll have a word with the nurses and try and arrange something," McGee offered.

Tony gave him a short nod. There was no point pushing it. If he was to be totally honest, he felt like crap. He was pretty sure that if he tried to sit on the side of the bed that he would pass out or puke. And whatever they were pumping into that drip in his arm was making him woozy. His eyelids felt as though they had weights on them. He needed to close them, just for a few minutes.

He drifted to sleep in seconds. It was no surprise to his father or McGee. It was obvious how weak he was. McGee felt some relief knowing that his good friend was going to recover. He left Tony's dad and, on his way back to the waiting area, decided to check in on Gibbs. He could hear Abby's incessant chattering from outside in the hall. He smiled at the unique way she dealt with stress.

"Hey, Abs," McGee said, feeling a little awkward interrupting her train of thought.

"Oh, hey, McGee," she said, sounding surprisingly chipper.

"How's he doing?" he dared ask.

"He's doing great, McGee. I've decided enough with the moping around thing. That's not going to get him through this. I'm going to fill this room with positive energy. That means no one is allowed in if they can't be positive. So back off, McGee!" she said vehemently, her hand in his face.

"Huh?" McGee said, as she turned him around and pushed him out.

"I'm sensing negative vibes from you, McGee," she explained seriously. "Come back later and bring a big dose of optimism with you."

McGee had seen Abby in this sort of mood before. Trying to change her mind wasn't going to get him anywhere. He might as well do as he was told. Poor McGee trundled back to the waiting area. Vance, Ducky and Ziva were still there. Jimmy had left around dawn as he had promised to take his mother to see her podiatrist that morning. They were all anxious for an update. Tim provided them with the latest information and warned them about Abby's positivity drive.

As they talked, Vance's cell phone rang. It was his wife, Jackie, enquiring about the injured agents and wondering if he would be coming home. He knew he had to get back to the office soon because he had a conference call in MTAC at 10 am, so he decided that he should go home, shower and get a change of clothes. He told her that he'd see her shortly before ending the call. He turned to Ducky.

"Can I give you a ride home, Doctor?" he offered.

"Oh, thank you, Leon, but I think I should stay," Ducky replied.

"You look exhausted and if you don't mind me saying so, you look like you could do with a hot shower and a change of clothes," he pointed out.

Ducky looked down at the blood-stained coveralls that he wore. The dried bloodstains had turned an ugly shade of brown and were quite unsightly, he thought. He opened his hands and looked at them. There was dried blood still under his nails, despite having washed them a number of times in the men's room. There was no denying, he looked a sorry sight.

"Maybe you're right, Leon." Ducky admitted. "I would appreciate that lift home. Thank you."

"Anyone else need a ride?" Vance asked.

No one else took him up on his offer. Ziva and McGee were adamant that they would stay a bit longer on Gibbs' account, but they realised that they couldn't stay there indefinitely. Life had to go on and they still had jobs to go to. They were fortunate that Vance was very understanding and wasn't pressing them to get back to work. Not yet at least.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - sorry for the delay in posting. Am busy preparing for Xmas and spare time is a novelty at the moment. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and as usual to my beta, Diane.**

**Chapter 7**

Abby had remained in Gibbs' room for quite a while and was still patrolling the room when Jackson and Fornell returned from breakfast, if you could call it that. Fornell ate a bagel with bacon and bought one for Jack as well, but Jack had no appetite. He only managed one bite and a cup of strong coffee. But it was all he needed to keep him on his feet for his son. When they arrived back to the room, they faced an attitude quiz from a very protective, Ms. Sciuto.

Despite their confusion and amazement, they obviously answered their quiz to Abby's satisfaction and were eventually allowed into the room. She had no doubt that Jackson oozed positive energy by the way he was so certain that his son was going to get better. While Abby had her suspicions that Fornell was borderline, she decided that some positive energy was better than none at all and allowed him back into the room. When they entered, the first thing they noticed was the untouched cup of coffee carefully placed close to Gibbs.

"You do know Gibbs wouldn't touch that swill?" Fornell pointed out, intending his comments to be light-hearted.

"Of course I do," Abby replied, offended at the implication. "But it was all they had."

"Oh, I'm not saying it isn't a good idea," Fornell replied, realising he had offended. "We all know Jethro would walk through fire for a good cup of coffee. I stress the word good, though."

"I'm working on that, Agent Fornell," Abby responded with a glare.

It was 8am and the hospital was starting to buzz with activity. Shift change complete, the day shift nurses were checking on their patients. Doctors were going about their rounds. When Abby spotted a dour-looking, middle-aged doctor and his band of junior doctors about to enter Gibbs' room, she hurried to the door and blocked his path.

"May I?" he asked, rather taken aback by her unusual actions.

"No, you may not," Abby replied, standing firm and folded her arms.

"But I'm his doctor," he stammered. "I need to…."

"I'm sensing a lot of negativity from you. This is a negative-free zone," Abby told him. "Only positive energy is going to help Gibbs. Come back later when you find yours."

"Abby!" Jackson said sternly, sounding eerily like his son. "He's only doing his job. Let him in."

Abby folded her arms like a bold child and took a step backwards, allowing him entry but all the while keeping a dour expression on her face. The doctor tried to ignore the looks she was throwing at him and picked up Gibbs' chart. Then he proceeded to check the readings from the monitors to which Gibbs was attached. He gave Gibbs a brief examination, checking his pupils and listening to his chest. Both Fornell and Jackson noticed the doctor's involuntary nod and anxiously anticipated his prognosis. He spoke briefly to his junior doctors, explaining Gibbs' surgical case and the complications he had suffered. His students made notes. Then the doctor turned to Jackson and company.

"I really didn't think he'd be here this morning," he told them. "He's certainly got fight in him. His SATS have improved slightly. There's some bradycardia and his BP is lower than I'd like, but he hasn't deteriorated, which is good. The clot appears to have dissolved. It's early days, but he's holding his own," he explained.

"And?" Jack asked, grasping for something to cling to.

"And the rest is up to him. We'll keep him under close obs and hope that there are no complications," he said candidly.

"You see! I told you. That's not positive," Abby remarked cheekily.

The doctor turned and smiled at the eccentric young woman.

"I wish I could be more positive, Miss, but he still has a long way to go," he reminded her as he left the room.

But Abby didn't need reminding. Nobody in the room did. They all cared very deeply for the man lying motionless in front of them. It was a waiting game that nobody wanted to play. A short while later, one of the nurses poked her head in the door to remind them that there should only be one person at a time with the patient. Fornell decided that now was the right time to leave. He was due to work that morning anyway. He bid them both goodbye and left to go straight to his office.

"Be sure to call me if there's any change," he asked as he left.

Abby reluctantly decided to return to the waiting area and allow Jackson to remain at his son's side. She rejoined the others. Time continued to crawl by. Minutes slowly turned to hours. Before they knew it, they were facing a second night at the hospital. The waiting and uncertainty was torture. Ziva was checking on Tony yet again. She had been finding it difficult to sit by and do nothing. It was all very alien to her. Usually there was a bad guy to catch or at least someone to blame, but right now all she could do was be there for her fallen colleagues. So she visited Tony and then Gibbs in rotation, doing her best to keep busy.

Abby and McGee found themselves alone in the waiting area. It was then that Abby noticed how pale McGee had grown. He was shifting his sling-cradled arm and appeared in some discomfort.

"Are you okay, McGee?" she asked, starting to worry about him.

"Yeah," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Don't lie to me, McGee!" Abby snapped. "Did you get that prescription filled yet?" she asked, referring to the script he had in his pocket for antibiotics and painkillers.

"I'll get it later," he replied, sounding tired.

"McGee! Are you crazy? Having Tony and Gibbs stuck in here is bad enough," she told him. "The last thing I need is you getting an infection and ending up in the room next to them," she said, chastising him. "Come on, I'm taking you home via the pharmacy. I won't hear another word," she insisted firmly.

McGee was about to object, but Abby shot him a look that was potentially lethal so he thought better of it.

Abby took McGee home that night, insisting that he stay with her so she could keep an eye on him. McGee agreed to stay in her place, anything for a quiet life. He also had to admit that he loved spending time with Abby. He still harboured feelings for the energetic Goth, but he was unsure if they were appropriate and he certainly wasn't going to blurt them out and ruin their friendship.

Abby insisted that McGee rest to allow the antibiotics to work. She settled him into her bed, leaving a glass of water at his side. Despite focusing her attention on McGee, Abby was distracted. She was still so worried about Gibbs. It was obvious to Tim that her mind was elsewhere.

"You know, you don't have to baby-sit me, Abs," he said as he pulled the duvet over him. "It's okay if you want to go back to the hospital."

"That's okay, McGee," Abby replied. "I'm sure they'll call me when he wakes up."

McGee looked at her. She was putting on the bravest face she could muster.

"What if he doesn't wake up, Abby?" McGee dared ask.

Abby considered his question. She wanted to shout at him or slap him for having such negative thoughts. How could he ask her that? But she knew McGee wouldn't be cruel or malicious. He was a realist and difficult and all as it was for Abby, she had to accept the possibility that Gibbs might not make it.

"He has to, McGee," she eventually answered. "I don't think I could cope if he didn't," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.

McGee rubbed her back with his uninjured arm, offering her some solace.

"He's the strongest man I've ever met," McGee pointed out. "If anyone can pull through this, it's Gibbs," he told her, hoping his personal doubts were sufficiently concealed.

"Get some rest, McGee," she said, turning around and kissing his forehead. She switched off the light and left the room. She sat in her living room, staring at the wall, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Every so often she would check her cell phone in case she had missed a call or the battery had died. But there was no call, which meant no news and as far as she was concerned, no news was good news.

Back at the hospital, the next twelve hours passed uneventfully. Tony steadily improved, much to the relief of his father. Gibbs' condition, however, remained relatively unchanged. Regardless, Jackson gave thanks for every hour that his son endured. As the new day dawned, Jackson considered it another milestone. Even Ducky, who returned to the hospital feeling refreshed, having showered, rested and carried out the autopsy on Captain Trisha Yeats, started to feel a glimmer of hope. It was two days since the shootings and Gibbs had survived against the odds. Maybe he was going to prove them wrong after all. He certainly hoped so.

Visitors filtered in and out of the ICU during the day. Vance returned to check on his agents before heading back to the office. Fornell popped back that evening. Ziva, after a brief trip home, returned for another marathon stint at the hospital. Between them, they tried to coax Jackson to come home with them and get some rest, but he was determined that he would not leave his son's side.

In another ICU room down the hall, Tony was steadily getting stronger and more insistent. He had been asking to see Gibbs from the moment he had heard he was hurt. Finally, thanks to his ample charms, he convinced a nurse to allow him out of bed and into a wheelchair to see his boss. Tony sorely swung his legs out of the bed. He allowed the pretty nurse to support him, and he relished the opportunity to put his arms around her while she helped him into the wheelchair. DiNozzo Senior smiled at the guile of his son, totally respecting his womanising methods. A chip off the old block, he thought. Senior took control of the steering and wheeled his son to Gibbs' room.

Tony had been keeping his best foot forward all the while he had been cooped up in the hospital bed. Despite the discomfort from his own wound, he stayed upbeat as he entered Gibbs' room. A broad smile extended across Jackson Gibbs' face when he saw the young agent coming towards him.

"Hey, Jack!" Tony chirped as Jackson walked towards him.

"It's good to see you up and about, young man," Jackson said, genuinely delighted. He knew how fond his son was of the young agent and hoped that a visit from Tony might just be the tonic he needed.

"This is my father, Anthony DiNozzo Senior," Tony said by way of introduction.

"We've met," Jackson replied.

"You have? Where?" Tony asked sounding surprised.

"Here," DiNozzo Senior replied.

Tony nodded, understanding immediately. He realised that the two elder gentlemen had shared a common bond these last few days and had obviously been a support for each other. He turned his attention to Gibbs. Seeing him looking so vulnerable was very disconcerting for Tony. He was used to the confident, brash, uber-capable agent who, to Tony, was an unstoppable force of nature. The figure lying in front of him was a far cry from the Gibbs he knew so well.

"He's still not awake yet?" Tony asked.

"Nope," Jackson replied, turning his head to look at his son. "There have been some positive signs, though. His blood pressure is almost back to normal and his output, I think they mean his heart, is improving."

"That's good then," Tony remarked. "He is gonna pull through, you know?" Tony told him, seeing how worried Jackson was.

"I hope so, Tony. He's all I've got in the world," Jackson admitted mournfully.

Tony knew exactly what he meant. Tony would have felt the exact same way three days ago, but since realised that maybe he was wrong. His father was surprisingly disproving him. Maybe he wasn't alone in the world after all. But while things had improved with his dad, he hated the price he and Gibbs had to pay in order to make it happen.

"Jack, this might sound a bit weird, but would you mind if I had a few moments alone with Jethro?" Tony asked, feeling a little awkward. "NCIS business," he said by way of explanation.

"Sure," Jackson replied. "I could do with a cup of coffee. How about you, Anthony?" he asked DiNozzo's father.

"Are you buying?" Senior asked. Tony shook his head in mortification. Typical Senior!

The two men took a stroll down the corridor.

"Your boy is looking much better," Jackson commented as they walked.

"Isn't he? It's such a relief," DiNozzo admitted.

"He's a good kid. You're a lucky man," Jackson told him.

"It took me long enough to realise it, but you know what? I am," DiNozzo replied.

Meanwhile, Tony manoeuvred his wheelchair as close as he could to Gibbs' bed.

"Hey, Boss," he began. "I don't know if you can hear me. What am I saying?" he asked with a chuckle. "Of course you can hear me, you hear everything. I half expect you to sneak up behind me and smack me on the back of the head. I guess I just wanted to say thanks. You know you saved us, don't you? This whole thing is pretty messed up. Ziva told me that the shooter was a Lt. Grady Walters; turns out he was the dead officer's partner. Ducky's autopsy revealed that Captain Yates was pregnant and there was no way the lieutenant could be the baby's father. It looks like he found out, maybe she told him? He must have lost it and strangled her. The theory is that he came back to commit suicide by cop. Well, it worked. You got him good, Boss," Tony said before pausing. He took a deep breath, well as deep as his injured lung would allow. He made a fist, squeezing so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"You've always got to get 'em, though, don't ye, Boss? I mean, why couldn't you for once in your life just hit the deck and keep your head down?" Tony said, his anger seeping through. "Look where it got you."

He was mad, he was frustrated and he was scared. There was no sense in what had happened. The lieutenant just turned up and started shooting indiscriminately. He wounded two civilians and killed a Metro PD officer, Tony had found out later. He didn't remember the shooting lasting very long, though. Tony wasn't even armed when he was shot. He was carrying a camera, taking photographs of the crime scene. He remembered the wind being knocked out of him and lying on the grass, staring up at the woolly white clouds. He remembered listening to the shots and hearing the screams from others around him. All he could think of was getting his weapon, but he couldn't move.

He remembered the autopsy gremlin appearing once the shooting subsided and his less than calm voice as he tried to reassure Tony that he was going to be fine. But despite his injury, Tony felt that he should have done more.

Deep down he felt guilty for not being there to back up his boss. He was the Senior Field Agent. He should have been there. Instead, Gibbs ended up taking on the gunman alone and look what had happened. No matter how he looked at it, Tony found it easy to blame himself.

"I should have had your six, Boss," he said, tears welling in his eyes and his voice breaking. "I let you down. I'm sorry, Gibbs."

He hung his head in shame and took some controlling breaths that came out sounding like sobs. He eventually raised his head, wiped away his tears before finding the courage to look his boss in the face. All he could think about was how unfair it all was and wondered if he would ever get a chence to make it up to him. To his surprise, his tear-filled gaze was met by two startling blue eyes glaring back at him.

"Boss!" he exclaimed, with a deep intake of breath.

**_TBC_**

**_A/N - I'll do my best to get another chapter up before Xmas._**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Sorry for the delay in getting this up. Took a little Xmas break. Hope you all enjoyed the holidays. **

_To his surprise, his tear-filled gaze was met by two startling blue eyes glaring back at him. _

"_Boss!" he exclaimed, with a deep intake of breath._

Chapter 8

Gibbs eyes were glued to Tony. Still attached to the ventilator, he was unable to speak. Obviously very weak, he just barely managed a slight movement of his head. He wanted to let Tony know that it wasn't his fault.

_You didn't shoot me, you idiot. Why are you blaming yourself?_

But Tony was too excited to notice Gibbs' barely discernible head movement.

"You're….you're awake!" he stammered, unable to contain his excitement.

He wanted to jump up and yell down the corridor after Jackson and his father, but he was frustratingly confined in the wheelchair. Instead, he pressed the call button on Gibbs' bed. Within seconds, a breathless nurse came rushing in. She was expecting a code blue but was surprised when instead she was greeted by the beaming grin of Tony DiNozzo.

"What is it?" she asked anxiously.

"It's Gibbs! He's awake," he declared eagerly.

"What?" she asked with astonishment. She looked over at her patient and saw his piercing blue eyes appear from beneath heavy lids.

"Sir, can you hear me, sir?" she asked, walking closer to him.

_Eh, yeah. Not deaf ye know? _

"Don't call him sir," Tony advised. "He hates that. Call him Gibbs or Jethro."

"Eh, okay," the nurse replied. "Jethro, do you know where you are?"

_Seriously? Of all the dumb questions! I got shot. I'm in a sterile room, so I'm guessing this would be the hospital. Take this damn thing out of my throat so I can answer you. _

Gibbs blinked once with purpose to indicate yes and glared with force at the young woman.

"I'm going to call your doctor," the nurse told him. "We'll see about taking that breathing tube out," she said to Gibbs. She then turned to Tony. "Keep talking to him and keep him calm until I come back."

_Calm? This is as calm as I get! _

"Sure," Tony replied. "Can you find his father? He'll want to know."

"Of course," she replied before exiting the room.

"So, Boss…you really had us worried for a while, you know?" Tony said, sounding a little uncomfortable. "Eh, your dad is here. In fact, so is mine. Can you believe it? The two of them are gone to get coffee."

_Coffee, coffee would be good._

"The rest of the gang were here but Ducky had to get back to do the autopsy on Lt. Walters. Abby took McGee home. He took a slug in the arm but he's fine. I think deep down he's kinda proud of it. Abby was worried about him but he's tougher than he looks, our McGeek. Ziva's here somewhere; she's come over all motherly and concerned. It's a bit unnerving actually, Ziva being nice? Everyone's been worried, even Fornell and the director. He's been here every day," Tony told him.

_Every day? How long have I been here?_

Tony could see that as he was talking, Gibbs was already struggling to stay awake. Little did he know that he had already zoned out and missed half of what he had been saying. Jethro felt so tired, he could hardly keep his eyes open. He had no control and they closed as if by some unseen force. When he did manage to prise them open again ten minutes later, he found that he was looking straight into the haggard face of his father.

"Hello, son," Jackson said with a smile. "You're going to be just fine."

"We're going to take out your breathing tube, Mr. Gibbs, if you feel up to it."

Gibbs turned to his left towards the voice that he didn't recognise. A middle-aged man wearing a white coat was standing there.

_The doctor, I presume. When did he get here? _

The doctor explained what he needed Jethro to do in order for him to remove the tube. Gibbs did as he was told and the tube was carefully extracted. Jackson, Tony and DiNozzo Senior stood back and watched uncomfortably as the doctor and nurse assisted Gibbs as he coughed and gagged as the tube was finally extricated.

"Just try and breathe normally," the nurse advised as she supported his head and placed an oxygen mask over his face. She slowly raised the back of the bed so that Gibbs was in a more elevated position.

Gibbs took slow, measured breaths. It was then that he noticed how painful each breath was. In fact, the slightest movement of his ribcage sent flares of pain throughout his body. His chest was killing him and each inhalation brought renewed agony. He managed to bring his breathing under control and put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes tightly to try and shut out the pain.

"Are you in pain, Agent Gibbs?" the doctor asked, noticing the pinched look on the agent's face.

Gibbs took a shuddering breath and nodded.

Woah! It must be bad for Gibbs to actually admit it, Tony thought.

The doctor ordered the morphine infusion to be increased to compensate and in an effort to make his patient more comfortable. As he concentrated on his breathing, Gibbs looked over at his father, then at Tony and DiNozzo Senior. It was then he noticed that Tony was in a wheelchair. He had presumed that he was just sitting down. Why was he in a wheelchair? His mind was clouded. His memory seemed veiled by a shroud and the morphine wasn't making things any clearer. He remembered flashes of the shooting, Lt. Walter's face especially. But nothing made sense. He looked at his elderly father, who he noticed looked exhausted. Gibbs pulled away the oxygen mask so he could speak. His throat was raw and his voice came only in a whisper.

"How long…. have ….you … been here?" he asked hoarsely.

"A couple of days," Jackson replied before explaining about Vance's call and the rushed flight to get there.

"No need … to stay... I'm fine," Gibbs told him breathlessly.

"You are now," Jackson said, sounding relieved. "But you had me worried, son."

Gibbs felt his father's strong hand give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. It felt strangely comforting. He nodded in Tony's direction and gestured for him to come closer. Anthony Senior pushed his son nearer to Gibbs.

"Closer," Gibbs said.

"What is it, Boss?" Tony asked as he got within arm's reach.

Gibbs didn't reply. He just mustered all the strength he could and reached out his right hand and gave Tony a feeble but significant head-slap. DiNozzo Senior and Jackson both raised eyebrows at his unusual action. Tony, on the other hand, beamed from ear to ear.

"Not…your…fault," Gibbs managed. "You…okay?"

"Me? I'll be fine, Boss. They just don't want me popping my stitches. I'll be back on my feet in no time. They're moving me to a private room later today. They say I'm distracting the nurses up here," Tony told him cheekily.

Gibbs smiled at his senior agent. He always managed to put his best foot forward. No matter how hard Gibbs tried to prevent it, his eyelids drooped once more. Tony noticed but said nothing. He knew how much Gibbs would hate anyone drawing attention to his weakness. The nurse noticed also and was quick to act in the best interest of her patient.

"Okay everybody, time to go. Jethro needs to rest," she said, motioning the three men from the room.

"Dad," Gibbs called, anxious to ensure his father was looked after.

"Yes, son," Jackson replied, turning back to him.

"Take keys of … my place. Go home," he said with as much insistence as he could muster.

"I will, son. I'll pick you up some things," Jackson promised. "First I have a call to make. Young Abby made me pinkie promise that I'd call her as soon as you woke up."

Gibbs smiled at the very notion of his dad and Abby making a pinkie promise. And as he surrendered to his exhaustion, his smile remained.

_Good old Abs!_

"He's awake, McGee!" Abby hollered as she burst into the bedroom where poor Tim lay sleeping.

"What? What's going on?" McGee asked, sitting up suddenly and staring wide-eyed. He twinged his arm as he did so. "Ow!" He looked at her with searching eyes.

"Gibbs. He woke up," Abby repeated, not at all concerned that she had just startled poor McGee.

"Seriously? You didn't just dream it?" Tim had to ask, rubbing his bandaged arm.

"No, I didn't dream it. I just spoke to Jack. Gibbs woke for a few minutes and he's breathing on his own," she enthused, dropping onto the bed beside him and throwing her arms around him. "Oh, McGee!"

"That's just great, Abby," McGee said, genuinely delighted. He inhaled deeply and drank in her scent. God, she smelled good, he thought.

"Right, I'm going to cook you some breakfast and then go to the hospital to see Gibbs," Abby announced, bounding to her feet once more. "You stay in bed and rest."

"No, I'm fine. I'd like to see Gibbs," McGee replied.

Abby gave him an enquiring look. She was trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth or just placating her. She decided to believe him. He looked rested and was taking his meds, so she decided to allow him accompany her.

Meanwhile, Ziva settled into the chair in Gibbs' ICU room. She was delighted and relieved when Tony told her that Gibbs had regained consciousness but was slightly disappointed to find him sleeping when she reached his room. She sat and watched him closely as he slept. He looked so much better now that the breathing tube was gone. There was only a nasal canula resting on his upper lip, ensuring he was getting enough oxygen. Every so often his breath would shudder, and she wondered if he was dreaming or in pain.

She was just glad that he was alive. She really thought she was going to lose him that day in the park. Until then, she hadn't realised how much she cared for the brash agent. Kneeling by his side, using her bare hands to try and stop him from bleeding to death was one of the most harrowing experiences of her life. And she had experienced some horrendous things, but her growing bond with Gibbs had made it so much more personal and difficult.

This man had risked so much to save her not all that long ago. What he did for her went way beyond duty. It proved the lengths he would go to for a friend, and it solidified their sometimes rocky relationship. She knew now that no matter what, she could trust him and rely on him. Having no relatives on this side of the Atlantic, she found that Gibbs was fulfilling the role of father to her. After becoming an American citizen, he even taught her how to play baseball. It meant so much to her. Even though he was normally a very introverted person, he made time for her. She had few friends in Washington outside of work but she never felt lonely. He had made it clear that she could call on him whenever she felt homesick or needed a friend. And it was nothing more than friendship. In the early days, she had to admit that she had a crush on Gibbs. Well, who wouldn't? He's a very attractive man for his age. But there was never going to be anything between them. There couldn't be. Gibbs was ever the gentleman and thoroughly professional and never inappropriate. She realised that her crush was purely admiration for the man. There were no romantic notions.

That said, she did love him. She considered him her father by proxy. Her own father had let her down, and she had lost faith in the man whose name she bore. Her life was in turmoil. She hid it from the rest of the team, but Gibbs was perceptive and saw right through her stoic façade. Their late night games of catch were the equivalent of her psychologist's sofa. She opened up to him and told him things that she couldn't tell anyone else. And he listened; he was a great listener. He knew when to say something or when to just let her talk.

She was staring at her hands, lost in her thoughts when his voice snapped her back to reality.

"Penny for them," he whispered softly, smiling at her.

"Gibbs! You startled me," she said, almost straightening to attention. "Tony said you were awake. I am so glad that you are going to be okay"

"Me too," Gibbs replied.

"Good. Sometimes I wonder," she said off the cuff.

"Wonder what?" Gibbs asked, confused by her remark.

"If you have a death wish?" she replied seriously.

"Not you as well," Gibbs replied.

"Well, do you?"

"Nope," Gibbs replied, his usual eloquent self.

Ziva shook her head, not sure whether to believe him or not. Gibbs could see straight through her, as usual. Something was bothering her. He thought he should say something.

"I remember," Gibbs began, before pausing, "when I got shot, you….you were crying," he told her.

"I thought you were dead. If it wasn't for Ducky, you would have been," she informed him bluntly.

"That bad, eh?" he replied flippantly.

"You have no idea," a rather pompous voice answered from across the room. Standing in the doorway was Dr. Donald Mallard. "Jethro, it is good to see you looking so...alive."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs replied. "I believe I wouldn't be around if it wasn't for you."

"Is that what you've been telling him, Ziva? The truth is, Jethro, that I did what I could, but I truly believe that there is a greater power than I responsible for your being here today," Ducky said seriously. "So, how do you feel?"

"Fine," Gibbs answered, knowing it to be the furthest from the truth. He lay there afraid to move, as every fibre of his being ached.

Ducky knew him long enough to know when he was lying. He also knew that the lie was for Ziva's benefit, not his. Gibbs hated for any of his team to see him in a weakened state and worrying about him. Ziva stood and offered Ducky her chair, explaining that she had promised Tony to help him move rooms. Not that he had much to move, she presumed that she was the moral support. As she left, Gibbs called after her.

"Ziver," he said, using his pet name for her. She turned and looked back at him.

"Yes."

"Thanks," he said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. Not only did he remember her tears, but he also remembered her strong hands pressing against his chest as he teetered on the brink of consciousness.

Her serious expression melted away, Ziva walked down the corridor towards Tony's room with a smile extending from ear to ear.

Back in Gibbs' room, Ducky was talking and had strayed off in a tangent about something that happened when he was a lad back in Edinburgh. Gibbs nodded and pretended to be listening but was struggling with his attention span. Every so often he was getting flashbacks, miniscule edits of the day he was shot. He was trying to piece it all together in his head and make sense of it when Ducky noticed that he wasn't paying attention to him any more.

"Jethro? Are you okay?" Ducky asked, slightly concerned.

"Not really," he admitted to the only person he could.

"What is it?" Ducky enquired.

"I need you to be honest with me, Duck. Am I finished?" he asked seriously.

"Finished?"

"In NCIS, is it over for me?" Gibbs asked, fearing the answer.

He looked at his old friend. His heart ached seeing him this way. But it was because he was a friend that he couldn't keep the truth from him.

"Honestly, Jethro, I don't know. Your injuries are serious and you're facing a long recovery," Ducky explained sympathetically.

"Okay. How bad are they?" Gibbs wondered. He wasn't able to tell and no one had explained the prognosis to him yet.

"Your most serious wounds were to the chest and abdomen. Your right lung suffered extensive damage but was impressively repaired. I've seen the x-rays, quite remarkable work. These military surgeons are extraordinary," Ducky said as he started to veer from the point.

"Duck," Gibbs sighed, in the hopes of getting him back on track.

"Oh, sorry. Where was I? Ah, yes, your litany of injuries," Ducky continued. "The second bullet entered your abdomen about here," he said, indicating to the left of his belly button. "It caused massive bleeding. Luckily, the Trauma Team here is second to none, and they got you into the OR as soon as you got here."

"Did they have to crack my chest?" Gibbs asked, suspecting from the agony he was in and the dressings covering his chest, that they had.

"Yes, a sign of how hard they fought to keep you alive," Ducky told him. "You should know that your injuries put your heart under considerable strain and you arrested twice during your surgery. As a result, there may be some resulting damage or weakness to your heart muscle. The extent cannot be determined until you are stronger and they can run some tests," Ducky explained with compassion, placing his hand on Gibbs' bare forearm.

_Heart damage? _

He knew that if he had any heart problems, there was no way he would pass the NCIS physical requirements and his career was over. Gibbs tried to let it all sink in. He suspected that Ducky was giving him the PG version and may be protecting him from the harshness of reality. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? It was out of his hands. Fate had been cruel to Gibbs on so many occasions throughout his life, and it looked like it had played another callous trick on him.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N - thanks for sticking with this story. I genuinely appreciate all you reviews. _**

Chapter 9

Ducky watched as his friend digested the news about his prognosis, his silence betraying his inner turmoil. He had just found out that his injuries could be career-ending. Ducky knew Jethro well enough to understand exactly what was going through his mind.

"Don't, Jethro," Ducky said, invading his thoughts. "Don't go there. It may never happen," he warned.

Gibbs looked at his old friend, who had been with him through so much. He could always lower his mask when Ducky was around. He shrugged his shoulders like a child lost for words and sighed.

"And so what if it does? You've retired before," Ducky reminded him.

"Yeah, and I wasn't much good at it, if you remember," Gibbs replied soberly.

"Well, practice makes perfect!" Ducky responded on cue.

Ducky couldn't help but laugh at his own wit, which, in turn, brought a hint of a smile to Gibbs' stony face. Gibbs rested his head back against his pillow. He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of nausea and wasn't sure if it was due to his injuries or if it was a physical manifestation of his emotions. He suspected the latter. He swallowed, forcing down the rising bile in his throat, knowing the act of vomiting was going to cause him untold agony.

Ducky noticed the sudden appearance of greenness in Gibbs' pallor and reached for a nearby kidney dish. He stood and held it to Gibbs' chin, suspecting the wounded agent was going to throw up. He placed his left hand on his friend's shoulder. Gibbs closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, battling against the urge. As his breathing regularised, Ducky piped up:

"Better?"

Gibbs nodded slowly.

"I'll get them to prescribe something for the nausea if you wish," Ducky told him as he returned the kidney dish to the side table.

Gibbs didn't really mind. He was way passed caring. Being awake and chatting for barely a half hour had exhausted him. He couldn't understand it. He had never felt so weak. He just needed to close his eyes. So he did, just for a few minutes.

He never felt the nurse administering the meds through his IV. He only knew that when he woke, his stomach felt a little better. The seedy feeling was gone and so was Ducky. Gibbs wondered how long he had been asleep. He shifted slightly in the bed and regretted it instantly. He couldn't believe the amount of pain he was experiencing. He had been injured before, both in the marines and at NCIS, but this was by far the most debilitated he had ever been. He lay there, his head resting back on the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. He was too afraid to move. He considered what Ducky had told him. Could this injury really be the straw that broke the camel's back?

All kinds of thoughts went through his head. If he had known that it could end his career, would he have tackled the lieutenant on that fateful day? He remembered his team so vulnerable in the park. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do it again, for them. Then he considered his life as it was. There was not much to show for it besides a glittering career. No relationship, no kids, nothing that he considered to matter he realised. His family had been snatched from him, it seemed a liftime ago. Now, three failed marriages and countless romantic liaisons later, all they added up to was an empty house, a bottle of Jack and an unnamed boat in the basement.

He was lost in his wallowing when a familiar cry snapped him back to reality.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" an excited Abby exclaimed as she burst into the room, teetering in her platform knee-high boots. "I'm so glad you're alive!" she declared without inhibition.

Gibbs summoned a feeble smile and his heavy heart lifted a tad upon seeing her and McGee.

"Hey, Abs," Gibbs said before she automatically threw her arms around his neck.

He flinched and inhaled sharply as her inadvertent action sent a jolt of pain across his chest. McGee winced and Abby quickly realised that she had hurt her beloved boss.

"Oh my God!" she said anxiously. "I'm so sorry. What was I thinking? Are you okay? Should I call someone?" Abby asked, totally flustered, arms flailing, completely panicked.

Gibbs' eyes remained pinched closed as he mentally dealt with the torturous onslaught.

"Gibbs?" Abby said meekly, trying not to cry and seeking his forgiveness.

Eventually Gibbs released the breath he had been holding with a shudder and opened his eyes as the throbbing finally passed.

"Good to see you too, Abs," he said, managing a tolerant smile.

"I'm sorry. It's just ….. I'm so glad to see you. I really wasn't sure if you were going to ….you know….not get better," she stammered, deliberately avoiding the word die.

"Well, if Ducky is to be believed, I'm a bit of a miracle," he told her.

"I always knew you were," Abby said, sounding very serious. "You survived that explosion and the near drowning and ... come to think of it, you do end up in a lot of scrapes," she realised as she recollected the number of times she had seen her silver fox injured.

Gibbs ignored her slight rebuke and turned to McGee, who stood there quietly in the background.

"How's the arm, McGee?"

"It's fine, Boss," McGee said, subconsciously raising his sling-bound arm. "Just a flesh wound."

"Good," Gibbs said, looking with pride at the young agent. He may be the team geek, but he also showed a lot of bravery and savvy in the field. Gibbs knew he had a lot more than technical know-how to offer his team and was glad to have him. "I hear Abby's been looking after you."

"Eh, yeah, Boss," McGee said sounding a little embarrassed, as he wondered how much Gibbs knew about him and Abby. Not that there was a "him and Abby," but there had been and if the truth be told, he would still like there to be.

"So, when will you be back at work, Gibbs?" Abby asked, hoping it was sooner rather than later, but suspecting it could be at least a couple if months. Being in work without Gibbs just wasn't the same. She lived for their "Whatcha got, Abs?" moments.

Once she posed the question, Gibbs broke eye contact and stared into space. He didn't know how to answer that question or how much to tell her. Of course, as soon as she noticed his hesitation, Abby was suspicious.

"What are you not telling me, Gibbs?" she demanded.

Gibbs looked back towards her but couldn't make eye contact.

"Nothing," he lied. "It's just that I haven't spoken to the doctors about that yet. It could be a while."

Abby looked at him, unable to hide her concern.

"That's okay. You take all the time you need," Abby said, sympathetically. "We just want you to get better," she said, leaning down and giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs said gratefully. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Gibbs and Tony continued to improve day by day. Tony's recovery had been much quicker than expected. His wound healed up nicely and his strength returned steadily. Soon the days turned into a week. Tony had itchy feet and he was anxious to get home. On the day he was preparing for discharge and he called in to see his boss, who had moved out of the ICU and into a private room a couple of days earlier.

"Hey, Boss," Tony chirped as he entered the room full of the joys of spring.

"You still here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, grouchily.

"I wasn't going to split without saying goodbye," Tony told him.

"Goodbye," Gibbs grunted, barely looking at him.

"Goodbye?" Tony asked, unimpressed by his reaction.

"Is there something else you want me to say?" Gibbs asked.

"Huh?" Tony replied, disappointed by his mentor's attitude. "No, it's just…ah hell, Gibbs, you need to snap out of it," Tony snapped, surprising himself at his boldness. Gibbs turned towards him suddenly and glared at him. "That's it, get mad, get angry, but stop feeling sorry for yourself. Everyone's tip-toeing around you because they think you need time. Well, you've had time. Now you need to get on with it. I know you feel like crap. You're not the only one, you know? I've got a nice scar to remember all this by too, but at least we're alive. That Metro PD officer was buried yesterday. He left behind a wife and two kids. Gibbs, we survived! There's a lot to be said for that, you know?"

Gibbs couldn't believe the nerve of Tony speaking to him like that. He should be angry at his senior field agent but just couldn't bring himself to yell at him. Despite how miserable he felt, he knew Tony was right. It could have been worse. They could have been burying Tony and he would never have coped with that.

"Sorry," Gibbs muttered, much to Tony's surprise.

"Never apologise," Tony automatically responded. "It's a…"

"Sign of weakness," Gibbs said, finishing his sentence, the scowl on his face softening.

Tony smiled. It was hard for him to watch the man he so admired, reduced to a shadow of the man he once was. It was obvious to Tony that his self-confidence had taken a battering. Not only were his physical injuries debilitating, but it became clear to Tony that each day Gibbs spent laid up in hospital, his psychological well-being was suffering.

Ducky had mentioned to Tony about Gibbs' long-term prognosis but he found it difficult to bring it up with Gibbs. He knew there was no guarantee that Gibbs would ever be back behind his desk, never mind in the field. He found the thought that he might be going back to work under a new boss hard to stomach. NCIS without Gibbs just wasn't the same. He had experienced it once before when Gibbs retired, albeit temporarily. And even though Tony had been promoted to team leader and thrived as such, he discovered that he would rather work under Gibbs any day.

"I've gotta go, Boss. Ziva's waiting for me downstairs. She and my dad are babysitting me until I'm back on my feet. Should be fun," Tony said, his words dripping sarcasm.

"Go on, get outta here, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, his tone a little less sharp.

"I'll be back to see you tomorrow," Tony said, sounding almost threatening. "We'll get you back on your feet. First we set goals. Tomorrow's goal, walking to the bathroom," he told him seriously.

Gibbs didn't know what to say. He sort of hoped that Tony was kidding. He had barely been out of the bed since he was shot. It was only a few metres from his bed to the adjoining bathroom, but he wasn't sure he could make it. He was still in a tremendous amount of pain. He didn't want Tony to see him so weak.

"It's that first step that's the hardest, Boss. I've been there," Tony reminded him. "And I'll be here for you. See you tomorrow!"

And with that, Tony was gone, leaving Gibbs alone with a lot to think about.

_**TBC**_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It was the night after DiNozzo's discharge from hospital. He was feeling a lot better and was glad to be home. His dad and Ziva were making a fuss, which suited him fine. Ziva had rented a few old movies to keep him occupied while his dad had ordered Chinese food. Tony was sick of hospital food and had been craving Chinese food for days.

As they sat and ate, Tony raised a subject that was on his mind.

"I'm worried about Gibbs," he announced, through a mouthful of fried rice.

"I thought he was doing better," his dad replied.

"Sure, he's getting better, I guess. It's just ... well, he's not himself. It's like he's given up," Tony explained.

"Gibbs? Give up?" Ziva said. "That's not like him."

"I know," Tony replied. "That's why I'm worried. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was scared."

"Come on, Tony. Have you ever seen Gibbs afraid of anything?" Ziva asked.

"Of course not, but, I can't explain it. He doesn't know what the doctors will say when they run those tests, and I think he's scared of what lies ahead," Tony explained.

"Well, if it was me, I'd be scared," DiNozzo Senior commented. "His life could be about to change forever. That's a big deal, especially at our age."

"At our age? Dad, Gibbs is nowhere near your age," Tony reminded him.

"He's not that much younger than I am," Senior replied with mock offence.

"Sure, Dad," Tony said, placating him.

"Well, whatever happens, he's not going to have to go through it alone," Tony said, picking up a sticky piece of sweet and sour pork.

"Absolutely," Ziva replied. "We're family."

"To family," DiNozzo Senior said, raising his bottle of beer in a toast.

"Family," Tony and Ziva responded.

During the initial few days following Gibbs' reawakening, Ducky had been a regular visitor. His life revolved around the office and the hospital, only returning home for a shower, a change of clothes and some shut-eye. At first his greatest concern was for Jethro's physical recovery, but as he regained some strength, Ducky noticed his disposition was not what it should be. He did his best to raise his friend's spirits. Now, he felt sorry for Gibbs, who was in a form of limbo, not knowing where his life was heading. Ducky offered reassurances and words of encouragement, which appeared to fall on deaf ears. Gibbs withdrew emotionally from his friends more and more each day. Ducky felt useless. He wanted so much to help his friend, but despite his best efforts, Gibbs pulled away. It was as if he just couldn't accept that his life was possibly about to change.

Ducky was so worried about Gibbs' state of mind that he found it difficult to concentrate on work. One such day, Vance paid an uncharacteristic visit to Autopsy. He found Ducky staring into space, standing over the body of a recently deceased Marine.

"Are you all right, Doctor?" he asked, sensing something was bothering the good doctor.

"Oh, Director, you startled me," Ducky said, instantly snapping out of his daydream.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Vance said apologetically.

"Is there something I can do for you, Director?" Ducky asked, putting down the scalpel he was holding.

"No, I just came down to ask you how Agent Gibbs was when you visited him earlier," Vance told him.

"Oh," Ducky said, his smile vanishing.

"Is there something wrong?" Vance enquired.

"Not exactly. Physically, he's improving, but to be honest I'm worried about him. He won't talk about what happened or about what may happen. He just stares at the TV or the ceiling. He was never the most talkative of men at the best of times, but it's like getting blood from a stone lately. He's not even trying to get back on his feet," Ducky explained.

"Well, he has been through a lot. He's lucky to be alive," Vance reminded him.

"I do realise that, Leon, but there's a difference between being alive and living. Right now, he's given up on living. I know it's going to be difficult but he needs to take that first step. It seems to me that he's afraid to face his own weakness," Ducky surmised. "He's a proud man but he's going to need help. And if I know him, he won't ask."

"But he knows we're all behind him, right?" Vance asked.

"Of course, but to get through this, he has to let people in and he's not very good at that," Ducky reminded him.

"I know," Vance agreed. "That I know."

That evening, Gibbs' father paid a visit and then Tobias Fornell stopped by later that same night. Fornell was relieved that his friend was recovering. He remembered being there the first night they brought him in, when the outlook seemed so bleak. Considering all that, he was thankful to be able to sit and chat with his old pal. The only problem was, Jethro wasn't exactly in a chatty frame of mind.

"So, are you going to need physical therapy?" Fornell asked, trying to engage Gibbs in some conversation.

Gibbs just shrugged, not wanting to discuss it with Fornell or anyone else.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Fornell asked, not happy at being ignored.

Gibbs looked at him, his expression stony and motioned with his hand from his head along his entire body.

"This," he replied dolefully.

"Yeah, well I can't blame you. You never were much to look at," Tobias joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Gibbs almost smiled and shook his head. Only Fornell would use insults as a tool to try and cheer him up.

"You'd think you'd be used to it by now," Fornell laughed. "So, what did the doctors say? Are you getting outta here?"

"Do you really want to know, Tobias?" Gibbs asked with a hint of aggression. "I think the medical term is "screwed". My heart is probably damaged and every breath I take is agony. They may as well start looking for my replacement."

"Oh, I get it. This is your out, your excuse to give up," Fornell said, unimpressed by his uncharacteristic attitude.

Gibbs just glared at him. What would he know?

"What? I don't believe you want to end up a sorry old fool who gave up on life. I won't let you walk away from what you've got," Fornell said adamantly. He wasn't the sort to let a friend escape th truth.

"Walk away? Is that a joke?" Gibbs scoffed. "Have you looked at me lately? I'm stuck in this bed. I can hardly move."

"Have you tried?" Fornell snapped instantly.

His retort struck a chord with Gibbs. The truth was that he hadn't tried. He hadn't tried out of fear of failing. What if he couldn't do it? He would have to admit that he needed help. He was a proud man, but unfortunately pride usually came before a fall.

"C'mon, Gibbs, you'll be up and about before you know it. A few weeks of physical therapy and you'll be the same old arrogant bastard you always were," Fornell told him, sticking to his original insulting tactics.

"Gee, thanks, Tobias…I think?" Gibbs replied, his words dripping sarcasm.

Fornell grinned, knowing deep down that Gibbs was actually grateful. He felt sorry for his friend, who was going through so much at the moment. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if the shoe was on the other foot. But he did know that if it was he lying in that bed, Jethro wouldn't stand by and let him go through it alone. Whether Gibbs liked it or not, Tobias was going to push his buttons and hound him, if that was what it took to get him through this.

The next day, Tony was true to his word and he and Ziva arrived into Gibbs' hospital room full of enthusiasm. Gibbs was sitting up and awake when they arrived but didn't seem very happy to see them. Behind his mask, he did notice how much better Tony looked. He had colour back in his cheeks and a spring in his step.

"Good morning, Boss," Tony said, "How do you feel this fine morning?"

"I haven't had my coffee yet," Gibbs grumbled.

Yikes! Gibbs without coffee is never good, both Tony and Ziva realised. They exchanged worried glances.

"Okay," Tony said tentatively. "Are you ready to get out of that bed?"

Gibbs didn't answer. He tried to glare at his senior agent, but his nervousness dampened the usual intensity of his renowned glare.

"Don't worry, Boss," Tony said, sensing his anxiety. "I've checked with the nurse. She said it's about time you were up and about. And she said that if you didn't get up, she was going to come in here and ….. well, use your imagination. Trust me, you don't want that. Have you seen her?"

Gibbs gave a nervous chuckle. Only Tony could make him laugh when he's this scared, he thought. But he didn't want Ziva and Tony to see his fear. He had no choice. He had to at least make some effort. He threw back the covers, revealing an unflattering hospital gown and a pair of knobbly knees. Ziva took a step closer to the bed as Gibbs took a deep breath and tried to move his leaden legs out of the bed. His abdominal muscles screamed at him and he could feel the pull on his surgical wound as he painstakingly twisted to his right. Ziva gently took hold of his elbow. He looked at her, wondering if she could sense his trepidation as he made it to the edge of the bed.

Ziva looked into the eyes of the man she so admired. She felt like she could see straight into his soul. A mixture of apprehension, sadness and fear swirled around inside. She felt him tremble as she held his arm. His forehead already bore a sheen of perspiration as he slid forward off the mattress to place his feet on the ground. As his feet touched the ground, she supported his weight. Tony came towards them to take his other arm, but Gibbs stopped him.

"No, DiNozzo," he said with determination. "Don't want you hurting yourself again."

"I'm fine, Boss. I came to help," Tony replied, feeling a little slighted.

"Please," Gibbs said softly.

Gibbs looked into his eyes and Tony met his gaze. There was an unspoken moment of understanding, and then Tony stood back and allowed Gibbs to his feet. He swayed noticeable, but Ziva used her strength to correct his balance. She allowed him to do everything at his own pace. Gibbs emitted a slight grunt as he tried to straighten up. It caused too much discomfort, so he remained slightly hunched.

"Are you okay?" Ziva enquired, as Gibbs paused where he stood.

He was deliberately concentrating on his breathing as well as trying to deal with the dizziness he was experiencing. He nodded to her.

"Okay, Boss. One foot after the other, you remember how it goes?" Tony said, coaching from the sidelines.

Gibbs wanted so badly to give him a clout behind the ear, but luckily for Tony, he was standing far out of reach. Ziva smiled at Tony's cheekiness and the intense glare Gibbs was hurling at him was priceless.

Through gritted teeth, Gibbs took his first wavering step since he was shot. It was a significant moment, lost on Gibbs, but fully appreciated by Ziva and Tony. Gibbs was too busy concentrating on his next step, which was the point of the exercise. Once he had taken that first step, there was no going back. Tony felt a sense of relief that his boss had achieved his first goal.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was suffering through a great discomfort to achieve his goal. His legs felt like jelly. He wasn't sure how long they would hold out. He was glad that Ziva was there, ready to catch him if he stumbled. His breathing had quickened and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. It felt like there was a weight pulling his chest towards his abdomen. Only a few more steps to the bathroom, he thought. He allowed himself a brief smile when he realised that he didn't even need to use the bathroom. Then it crossed his mind what he must look like. He was sporting a very unflattering hospital gown, which he realised left nothing to the imagination from behind. At least he had some shorts on, courtesy of his dad's recent visit.

Another shuffled step, then another and he was there. As he held onto the door frame of the bathroom, he smiled. He felt exhausted but he didn't care. He had made it. He looked over at Tony, who was beaming with pride. Then without warning, Tony turned and quickly made a beeline for the door.

"I'll be right back," he said as he disappeared.

"Typical," Ziva muttered, stunned by her colleague's rudeness. "He must have spotted a hot nurse or something," she said to Gibbs as he turned and slowly returned to his bed.

"That's DiNozzo for you," Gibbs commented as he reached out for the edge of his bed.

He leaned back and sat on the edge and Ziva helped him get his legs back onto the bed.

"Thanks," Gibbs said, appreciating her assistance.

"That's what friends are for," she said smiling back at him.

She considerately fixed his pillows and rearranged the sheets over his legs. She could see that those few steps had drained him of energy. He rested his head back against the plumped pillows and waited for his pounding heart to slow. Just then Tony returned. In his hand he had a steaming, aromatic cup of black coffee.

"There you go, Boss. I thought you could do with that," he said, handing Gibbs the cup.

Gibbs inhaled the scent deeply and savoured a large, greedy mouthful. He nodded contently to Tony. There were no words to convey his appreciation.

"I needed that," he said truthfully, looking at his two agents and appreciating their efforts. He knew they were torturing him because they cared for him.

He realised that he could get around and that he could bear the pain. Now he had to concentrate on getting stronger. He knew that there was a greater hurdle ahead that couldn't be avoided. Knowing that somewhere in the future was a battery of tests that would ultimately decide the fate of his career left him uneasy. The fact that he was back on his feet, however briefly, offered no guarantees, but at least it was a start.

TBC

_**A/N - Again, thanks guys, for all your reviews. Will be winding this story up in the next chapter (hopefully).**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N - Please excuse any medical inaccuracies as I depend on Wikipedia for a lot! **_

Chapter 11

Over the next few days, Gibbs found himself spending more and more time out of bed each day, whether he liked it or not. At times, it felt as though all the people around him were ganging up on him. If it wasn't Tony and Ziva practically forcing him out of bed, it was Ducky making him do deep-breathing exercises or Abby trying to get him to try alternative relaxation methods. Even Fornell was getting in on the act, insisting that if Gibbs wanted him to buy the coffee that he had to at least walk to the machine with him.

But it was thanks to their combined efforts that he was gradually growing stronger. It was about a week later and Gibbs received his usual visit from his doctor as he carried out his rounds. This day, however, the doctor had more to say than usual.

"Well, Agent Gibbs, I'm glad to see you're getting more active," he said, perusing his chart. "I think now would be a good time to carry out a few tests on your heart. We'll start with a stress test and see how it goes. Is that okay?" he asked, as if he was giving Gibbs a choice.

Gibbs took a deep breath. What could he say? There was no point postponing the inevitable.

"Sure," he replied, nodding his head. "When?"

"I'll check the schedule and see if we can fit you in today," the doctor told him. "The sooner the better, eh?"

"Fine," Gibbs replied, not sounding too enthralled.

The tests were scheduled for later that day. Gibbs received a visit from Abby and Ducky that same day prior to the tests, but he decided not to tell them about them. He didn't want them worrying nor did he want them to feel like they had to be there with him during the tests. He was relieved when they left, blissfully unaware of the impending ordeal facing Gibbs. A short time later, his nurse arrived with a wheelchair to take him to the Cardiac Unit where the tests were to take place.

Gibbs hated the fuss involved in all these tests. There was a room full of strangers with fake smiles, trying not to make him feel like he was just another guinea pig to them. He reluctantly allowed himself to be hooked up to monitors of all sorts, all the while oblivious to their function. The doctor explained that the reason for these tests was to place the heart under various stresses and to monitor how it responds. In the beginning, Gibbs found it easy enough, walking on a treadmill at a reasonable pace. But within minutes of just walking, he found that he was out of breath and his heart felt like it was about to explode.

As the pace quickened, Gibbs found it more and more difficult to get air into his lungs and started to think he was going to pass out. Regardless, he kept going, pushing his damaged body to its limits, maybe to try and prove the doctors wrong or maybe just to prove himself wrong. Thankfully, the test didn't last much longer but as soon as he stopped, his legs turned to jelly. He had to grip tightly to the bars of the treadmill to stop himself from collapsing. The nurse helped him back into the wheelchair. She took his blood pressure and pulse while the doctor listened intently to his heart and lungs.

"You've still got a long way to go," the doctor commented as he listened to Gibbs' heaving chest.

Gibbs' heart sank. Did this signal the end for him, he wondered.

"On initial examination, Mr. Gibbs, there appears to be some weakness in the left ventricle, which is affecting blood flow. However, all is not lost. We have an excellent physical therapy department who will devise a combined program of medication and exercises to strengthen the heart muscle. We would hope to see a significant improvement as a result," the doctor explained.

None of it was what he wanted to hear, but it was not unexpected all the same. At that very moment, all Gibbs wanted to do was go home to his basement and lock himself away from these strangers and away from his own weakness. But he knew that if he did that, he would never get better. And he wanted to get better. He wanted his life back.

On the journey back to his room, Gibbs was greeted by McGee and DiNozzo in the corridor. He wasn't really in the mood for visitors. It didn't help that they were seeing him being pushed in a wheelchair either. Of course, DiNozzo recognised Gibbs' discomfort immediately and knew how to gloss over it.

"Hey, Boss! Nice wheels!" he schmoozed, as he made eyes at the nurse who was pushing him.

Needless to say, Gibbs noticed and had to forcibly hold back the smile that threatened to break out across his face. He just can't help himself, Gibbs thought.

McGee was more observant with regard to Gibbs' physical appearance and noticed immediately how flushed Gibbs looked. He could see the perspiration that soaked the neck area of his gown. He wondered where his boss had been and what he had been up to. He was dying to ask but was trying to summon the courage. He walked around behind the wheelchair and offered to take over from the nurse.

"Will you be okay, Agent Gibbs?" Nurse Benson asked, making sure her patient was comfortable with her leaving him in the hands of the two young agents.

"Sure," Gibbs replied, giving her a flirtatious wink.

"I saw that," DiNozzo said, shocked at the very notion that Gibbs might flirt with a nurse. That was his job! Gibbs just raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Where were you, Boss?" McGee asked, hoping Gibbs wouldn't bite his head off.

"Tests," Gibbs replied, not elaborating.

Tony and McGee glanced briefly at each other trying to coax the other to find out what they both wanted to know. They arrived back at Gibbs' room and when they reached the bed, McGee put the brake on the wheelchair and reached to help Gibbs out and up on to the bed. Gibbs brushed his hand away.

"I can do it," he insisted, wincing as he stood.

Tony looked on. His heart warmed to see that Gibbs' attitude had changed, even if his manners hadn't. He wasn't sure what had done it, but he knew it was another step in the right direction.

"So?" Tony finally asked when Gibbs settled back into the bed.

"So what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"The tests. What did they say?" he replied.

"I won't be back…," Gibbs replied, before pausing deliberately.

Tony and McGee stood looking shocked at this new information.

"For a while," Gibbs continued.

Both of them released simultaneous sighs of relief and smiles washed over their faces.

"Ha! Boss, you had me going," Tony admitted. "I should have known though. You wouldn't leave us."

"Of course not, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied. "I have a few weeks of physical therapy to look forward to though."

"Piece of cake, Boss," Tony told him confidently.

"I hope so," Gibbs replied.

I really do, he thought.

Gibbs went through some dark times over the next couple of months. His road to recovery was more of an emotional roller coaster than he could ever have imagined. There were more ups and downs than Six Flags. Getting out of hospital and back home was a high, but the early days of his physical therapy were unquestionably a low.

He struggled daily with the physical punishment that his body had to endure. His dad insisted on going with him the first day, but it only made it harder for Gibbs knowing how it pained his father witnessing his struggle, so needless to say, Jackson didn't accompany him again.

His team and his friends were a constant support through it all. Without fail, each morning he had an appointment, one of them was there to drive him and another to take him home afterwards. The first few weeks were the hardest. He would often get home and be so exhausted that he wouldn't have the energy to make it upstairs. He used to fall asleep on the sofa. Jackson would always cover him and make sure he was comfortable. To be honest, Gibbs would have been lost without his dad around the house. Despite Gibbs' concerns about closing the store in Stillwater for such a length of time, Jackson insisted that he would be around until such time as he was no longer needed.

The therapy seemed unending, but eventually Gibbs started to notice the fruits of his endeavours. His heart and lung function was improving all the time and so was his confidence. His pain was diminishing as his body healed. There was light at the end of the tunnel at last. The day he ran his first mile since the shooting was a definite high. He even allowed himself a beer that night in celebration. As his fitness peaked and with his doctors' permission, he arranged his NCIS physical assessment which he would have to pass if he wished to return to active duty. Again, he did it in secret so as not to make a fuss and so he would not be embarrassed should he fail. Only Vance knew it was happening at all.

The first anyone knew about him passing it was one morning shortly after, when Jackson Gibbs was making breakfast in Gibbs' kitchen. He turned to find his son standing there looking fit and dressed for work.

"You going somewhere?" Jackson asked sounding surprised.

"Work," Gibbs replied casually.

"Work? I thought you had to pass a physical," Jackson said, looking confused.

"Already did," Gibbs replied, grabbing a mug and pouring some coffee.

Jackson's whole body appeared to relax and his smiling face told its own story. Typical Jethro, he thought; he always has to do it alone.

"Gonna be late," Gibbs said, downing the coffee and heading for the door.

He paused and turned back to his father.

"Thanks, Dad," he said looking his father in the eye. It wasn't just for the coffee. He owed that man so much. His dad nodded and his heart swelled with love and pride at that moment.

The elevator pinged and the door slid open, revealing to Gibbs the welcome sight of the orange walls of the bullpen. It felt good to be back in familiar surroundings. It was a feeling that many times over the last two months Gibbs thought he would never experience. He stepped out, coffee cup in hand and strode confidently to his desk. All the while he was watched by every pair of eyes in the office.

Ziva was sitting at her desk typing away and looked up when Gibbs breezed past her. She couldn't believe her eyes. She turned towards him and couldn't help but notice how fit he looked. He had lost some weight but it made him look younger, she realised. She decided not to make a fuss, knowing how he'd hate it, so she just smiled at him and continued typing.

Tony, who had returned to work the previous month, was stunned to see Gibbs march past him.

"Boss?" he said getting to his feet. "You're back," he said, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, sitting down behind his desk as if it was nothing unusual.

"Hey, Boss," McGee said, delighted that the captain was back on board ship.

"McGee," Gibbs said, acknowledging the young agent. "You get a haircut?"

"Eh, no Boss," McGee said, sounding confused. Gibbs just smiled. He loved teasing the poor chap.

Just then Ducky arrived for work and walked through the office as he did each morning, past the team's desks, greeting each of the agents by name.

"Good morning, Ziva. Morning, Anthony. Timothy," he said, acknowledging each of them in turn. "Jethro," he said, continuing on by before stopping suddenly and turning around. "Jethro? What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Duck," Gibbs said, sounding unusually chipper.

"You look well," Ducky said, meaning it whole-heartedly.

"I feel well," Gibbs replied.

"Does Abigail know you're back?" Ducky asked. Gibbs shrugged.

"Haven't seen her yet," Gibbs told him.

"You'd better get down there, Boss," Tony advised him. "If she finds out you're back and you didn't go see her, well, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."

"Good point, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, getting back up and heading immediately down to Abby's lab.

He could hear her pounding music from the moment the elevator doors opened. When he reached the door, he could see Abby standing with her back to him, her eyes trained on the screens in front of her. He walked over to her stereo and turned off her music.

"Hey!" she said, turning around crossly. But her anger quickly dissipated when she saw who was standing there.

"Gibbs!" she squealed, rushing towards him and throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

"Hey, Abs," Gibbs replied, hugging her back.

"You're back! You are back, right?" she asked, expectantly.

"Yup," Gibbs replied.

"Oh, thank God. Just in time too. That Agent Thomas, he…I…grrrrrr," Abby growled.

Gibbs just laughed. He knew exactly whom Abby was talking about and what she meant. Some people just didn't understand the lab rat like he did. After spending a little time catching up on things, well, mainly listening to Abby rabbit on about how things had gone to hell since he was away, Gibbs returned to the office upstairs.

It felt good to be back behind his desk. He found himself looking around observing his team, who had been such a support to him in his hour of need. He realised as he sat there, what a lucky guy he was. He watched as DiNozzo got to his feet to go to the head and noticed how he winced as he straightened up. He waited a minute before following DiNozzo to the men's room.

"Oh, hey, Boss," Tony said, when he turned from washing his hands and saw Gibbs standing there.

"You okay, Tony," Gibbs asked, sounding weirdly concerned.

"Fine, Boss," Tony replied, looking strangely at Gibbs.

"Still in pain?" Gibbs asked, knowing his young charge wouldn't lie to him.

"Good days and bad days, Boss. You know…." Tony admitted.

Gibbs nodded. He knew exactly what Tony was experiencing. Tony had spent so much time looking after him Gibbs almost forgot that he, too, was recovering from a serious gunshot wound.

"Yeah, I know," Gibbs replied, putting his hand affectionately on DiNozzo's shoulder.

Tony looked at the hand resting on his shoulder and then into the face of his mentor. It was unlike Gibbs to be in any way intimate, but they had been through such a rough time together, the whole team had. Sometimes actions say much more than words ever could. This was one of those moments.

Neither agent mentioned their conversation, if you could call it that, when they returned to the bullpen. Sitting back down, they exchanged nods. Verbal communication was not their forte, but their messages always seemed to get through.

It wasn't long after that when Director Vance appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Agent Gibbs! I need you in MTAC, now."

Gibbs looked up and couldn't conceal his wry smile. He stood up eagerly and hurried to the stairs. His team watched as he ably took the steps two at a time. Silently, they exchanged glances with each other and shared the same thought.

The boss was back.

**THE END**

**A/N - thats it guys. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for your support for this story. And a big thank you to my wonderful Beta, Diane.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the above story.**


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